“Ghost’s not as vulnerable as you think,” she points out, a little defensive. Having been caught out that badly in Winter is still a sore spot, and she's inclined to think it's given the wrong impression. The Fallen had more than luck on their side, that day. “More than I am, though. What’s the point of having a walking tank if they aren’t the one exposing themselves? Hell, what’s the point of being immortal if you won’t take the jump?”

At least, her sort of immortal. Guardians exist for a very specific purpose, and it’s one that demands audacity. Bravery in the extreme. …And sooner or later, a final death. None of them go peacefully. She’s not so quick to answer Loki’s latter questions, though. Ghost has vanished again as they follow the trail, so for a pointed moment there’s only the sound of their footsteps on the forest floor. The wind. Loki’s breathing, faintly. The smell of sulphur and Inanna palms.

Does it do something for you?

“Not the way you’re making it sound.” The Exo’s tone has changed. It’s not cold, nor angry, but there’s none of her easy-going cheer or even the protest that her voice held a moment ago. She’s serious now. Matter-of-fact. “Your second death is terrifying. Always is. By the time you quit counting, you don’t even think about it. Sometimes it’s over before you know it and sometimes it’s another horror lodged in your head. Either way, it’s all just part of the rhythm. I don’t think it ever gets fun. As for coming back, that’s- hnh. Guess you could call it a rush. Of a kind. It’s not the fun part.”

She looks down at her right gauntlet, the careful inscription marked out there. The Last and Surest Argument. “I’m a Striker Titan. Started out that way, anyhow. That means drawing fire, hitting the enemy head on, throwing yourself at a tank because you can- that’s what we do. That’s exhilarating. Getting up knowing the universe just tried to put you down again and you just laughed in its face, that’s a high. Getting blown to shrapnel by the tank, well, that part not so much.”