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The scared and angry Brunhilde glares at Smorre as he stutters, her features softening a bit and looking less likely to aim at him when he stutters out what he can. Her gun is still trained on the elf's chest, her finger on the trigger ready to squeeze it, but divides her focus between the cat and the elf. She has no way of anticipating the blast, and finds herself on the floor, limp and unarmed, eyes wide and looking up at Smorre.
She's quite angry at the moment, but has no choice but to listen, her gaze turning to one of realization, then determination and agreement. After about a minute, she'll slowly get up, her eyes still on Smorre. "Ok. I'll do as you say if you promise to train me." She announces as soon as she has her voice back, her gaze unwavering.