Same old thing, [Horse answers, clearly tense despite her choice of words.] Drone. That thing's still rolling off heat, [she juts her chin at one still blocking their way,] or it'd probably have seen us. Thermal, yeah?

[Finally, she puts her eyes back on Bella, acknowledging her biologist disc electromagnetics with a smile that looks like it'd fit better on the front of a cat's head, wide, squinty, none of that Cheshire teeth nonsense, somewhat uninterpretable.] I'm gonna have to get close and push, [she says. It's less heroic than it sounds, maybe; there's crap lying around for leverage, and the drone is very round, precariously settled on shattered brick. It does look impressively heavy, though.] You can shoot?

[Maybe there's no actual question-mark at the end of that. Hard to know; Horse terminates the remark with a slightly wheezy cough, thanks to the accumulated dust and ash. She's already pressing Bella with her gun. It might occur to the scientist to ask, around about now, if it'd be better to wait or find a different way, if the thermal benefit isn't actually that convincing.

Or her mission, as specified, isn't that important.]