Noa doesn’t scowl, not quite, but her eyes pinch a little at the mention of the Mayor. In the last year she’s come to blame that man as much as the APD for the fact that Jonny’s in the dirt. How he pulls the strings of the Capitol, like some smiling dictator. “It don’t make sense,” she says. “They’ve been given those weapons, I would think that man would want to burn us from Austin’s existence, whether or not we’re wearing cuts.” But then she shrugs a shoulder, like it doesn’t really matter why or why not. If the park is safe it’s one less thing to put on the list of worries.
“Seems like bad business to use your own product.” She’s surprised by that, knowing enough of the rules that the Hounds have to know that using wasn’t ever on the table. “But I’ve seen some of those Ghouls. If the cats start looking like them they ain’t going to pose much of a challenge.” She downs half her glass, processing over what could happen with drugged up cartel members and high powered weapons. “You think if he burns through all his men he’ll be able to find new ones?”