Jo's blood is rushing in her ears. Her own eardrums have been punched hard by the fire of the Hellhound's gun, and between her deafening rage and the ringing still lingering there it's a wonder she hears the other woman's voice at all. She is set on a course, ready to watch the blood spill from this bitch's throat, and maybe the words make it through to her only by some kind of miracle. Maybe it is the little thing alive inside of her that calls across some cosmic plane and makes Jo listen. Whatever it is, Jo hears the woman's words.
Pregnant.
It could be a trick. It could be, but somehow Jo is sure it is not. The plea in the other woman's voice could not be faked, at least not by someone like this Dog. She is dangerous in many ways, but Jo doesn't believe trickery and guile is one of them. She is too blunt and bold to have mastered the art of lying and subterfuge. Of course she doesn't drop her guard entirely, but she freezes in her motion before her blade can sink into the woman's skin. Her black eyes glimmer in the dull dark, searching the Hellhound's face for signs of deceit that she can't seem to find. Her knife eases back, and after a moment she shifts and slides it into its sheath on her thigh, sitting back on her heels.
"What are you hiding from?" she asks again, the acid drained from her voice.