More than anything

Oh, god, and now there's another one. Greta eyes the newcomer uneasily; he's large and imposing, and the crooked angles of his nose don't speak to a life spent bookkeeping. All his attention -- once he's done glaring at Billy -- turns to Saoirse. The way he makes himself smaller, as if to make himself less frightening, might remind her of Bull, a little, if she was inclined to be charitable.

She isn't.

"I don't know what happened," she says. Ten seconds ago, she would have just sounded bewildered. Now, there's a faint, cranky stress on the word 'I,' because she's beginning to suspect Billy and whoever this other man is aren't the least bit in the dark. "I was--we were just walking. Who are you?" That's directed at the crouching stranger near her feet. "Did you do this?" That's for either one of them, her gaze shifting suspiciously between the two men. She makes no attempt to offer her arm for inspection.