"All right." Saturday nods approval. "Now, remember it ain't magic. It'll stop a bullet, but not in its tracks. You'll still get some nasty bruising and the wind knocked out of you, maybe a few broken ribs. Still better'n'dying, though."

She gives Catra's kit a once-over, professionally and so quickly that she's done before Catra can protest about being able to look after herself.

"Okay then, tiger. You look about ready, I'd say. Good hunting."