"I think you're probably worrying about the wrong people," as Ophelia spoke, the Grave Digger fell into place behind her, standing opposite where the Bride hovered about looking depressing. "These...people..." she nudged one of the nerds she'd injured with a foot, and he groaned. "Are attacking the entire city. And not just 'imports,' but people from here too."

She shrugged, "you should worry more about yourself, or the people they are trying to hurt in the first place. If you're too busy trying not to hurt your enemy, they'll kill you." She didn't actually care if the orange man died, frankly. But his attitude...bothered her a little bit.

Still, she could at least pretend to go along with it. "I'll...try, though." Yeah, like that would last. "But if they keep attacking me, I am not going to be nice to them."