I giggled softly, elliciting a quick glance from Corran, and an even quicker one from Wes. I wasn't sure if I were happy that Wes was getting what was obviously coming to him, or if I pitied him for being the brunt of this woman's considerable rage.
"I've got a small weapon. Well, self defense item really." What was motivating me to speak and why was I admitting that I never go anywhere with out my pepper spray? I wanted to smack myself so badly.
Wes' terrified eyes shot me to my very core and I regretted my admission twice over now. He looked like a cornered, half drowned, muddy, about-to-be-beaten puppy, and my heart strings twanged.
I think in this case pity is in order, but Force save me because I have no clue why. But, being that this woman seemed terribly ticked off (understatement of the century right there) and that she wasn't answering to her name, I just leaned against Corran, ready to help if need be.
Continued in 61