Len’s mind is racing. Her primary concern is twofold; Lt. Hendroff and her patients, and getting them out of there in one piece. The rebellion, the ruling body, they can all go hang themselves for all she cares. Her focus is more immediate, and contained within the building. That’s all that matters to her. Their captors have no problem using violence. They’ve made THAT perfectly clear.

She’s got her work cut out for her.

“You know me, Captain. I’m a people person.” She gives them an unamused smile. “Not sure you’d like them, though. They’re a bunch of morons. Not one brain cell to rub together among the - ” Her insulting diatribe is cut off by the swift punch the rebel leader hauls off and swings at her face and pain explodes in her head. But never let it be said that Len McCoy can’t take a hit. His blow staggers her, but she remains standing. She huffs a pained laugh, hand clenching into a fist. She tastes blood, can feel the blood trickling down her cheek, and she’s fairly certain he cracked something on top of making that bruise that’s forming a damn sight worse, but she’s all right.

It’ll take a lot more than that to shut her up. “I think that’s a yes. He’d love to speak to you.”