She takes a moment to consider, a shift of her weight on the balls of her feet. There's a half dozen things she's been worrying about in regards to this anyway. There were more women here than just herself, and more than a few that were willing to fight, - and needed to. What they were trained for. Zarya, Carolina, that little wisp of a girl that was terrified of accepting even a breath of kindness. The older woman who she'd seen.

They were women, alone, with no one to speak for them, no one to protect them. If she were still in a place to have her rank mean anything, it might be different, it would be easy, she would take them all into her durgadal, arm them, and keep them in close where they could never be -

Ah.

"My lady, I can only think how difficult it must be to be a woman alone of your position in this camp, and both need to be guarded and to preserve your modesty when your husband is not present."