Now don't get her wrong: shooting a pistol point blank into a man is very sexy and all. But Arthur's little 1930s number is only near-future and doesn't hold many bullets, and Nellie still remembers her second Battle Royale and the blooming stupid and annoying way she died there. Never let it be said that there's no softness in her heart, for she'll give this advice out for free: pistol-whipping doesn't work on everyone, especially not when the bitch is wearing a diving suit.
All this to say that Nellie is saving the gun till she absolutely needs it, and trying to think of a more sustainable way to murder in the meantime. A way that works around this inconvenient bloody blindness. She came to not mind dying all that much, on her own cruise; most of the others were stronger than her, with magic powers and shiny weapons and all, and so speaking practically, she simply had to get used to some things. On this night, though? On this night, she's very invested in preserving her... what did young Scott always call it? Her K/D ratio.
Is there enough time for her to cosy up to someone and convince them to watch her back? No? Figures. Probably wouldn't work anyway; this body doesn't seem to have much in the way of... wiles.
Out of seemingly nowhere, there's a coffee-and-tobacco smell, and before Nellie can pinpoint why it appears in Arthur's memory, there's something being pressed into her hand.
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All this to say that Nellie is saving the gun till she absolutely needs it, and trying to think of a more sustainable way to murder in the meantime. A way that works around this inconvenient bloody blindness. She came to not mind dying all that much, on her own cruise; most of the others were stronger than her, with magic powers and shiny weapons and all, and so speaking practically, she simply had to get used to some things. On this night, though? On this night, she's very invested in preserving her... what did young Scott always call it? Her K/D ratio.
Is there enough time for her to cosy up to someone and convince them to watch her back? No? Figures. Probably wouldn't work anyway; this body doesn't seem to have much in the way of... wiles.
Out of seemingly nowhere, there's a coffee-and-tobacco smell, and before Nellie can pinpoint why it appears in Arthur's memory, there's something being pressed into her hand.
Surprised: "Oh?"