Jo watches it all with quick, catlike eyes. In the dark she can see it all-- the anguish plain on the other woman's face, the way she wraps her arms around her stomach as if to cradle the only thing she has left, the little babe inside of her that one of those Dogs undoubtedly put there. She wonders who it was. She wonders what it would feel like to be chased by the father or your own child, to know he wants you dead. Jo can't help feeling empathy for this woman. She was raised by women, closer to her sisters and her aunts and mothers than she will ever be to any man. It's difficult for her not to absorb the emotions of other women, not to feel them deeply like some kind of estrogen-empathic sponge. No matter how much hate and anger has built up between them over the years, Jo has always had a strange respect for this fury-fisted Hellhound, the only female crew member she's ever seen and maybe the hardest fighter out of all of them. No matter how much anger she has felt towards her, right now that respect is winning out. Jo takes her hand off the hilt of her blade and sits forward again, reaching out that hand to grip the other woman's shoulder.
"Why do they think you betrayed them?" she asks, the gears already turning in her mind. The last time they met, the Hellhound had been so interested in what she had to say about their rat. There wasn't any doubt, she didn't laugh off Jo's accusation as if there was no way there could be a betrayer in their midst. She already knew. "Is this more of his deceit?"