Saturday stares into the pale eye, not afraid - angry. Sad and scared aren't things worth feeling. Turn it into rage, and fight.

She braces one foot behind her, ready. Saturday has several questions and quite a lot of invective for Guts, for whoever made this armor, for whoever told him to use the armor, for whoever has let him keep using the armor, but that can all wait. Every hair on her neck is sticking straight up, for all the beast on his back is smiling sweetly.

"Come get some, if you think you're hard enough," she tells it. "The only person dyin' here is gonna be you, if you cross me."