Snow would know that kind of sultry, accented fury anywhere. He'd been on the receiving end of it at least once or twice himself. Fang had always had a bit of a temper -- one that was worse than Lightning's or even Snow's own -- and Snow would be lying if he said that there wasn't some sort of sadistic, terrible glee to be found in the way she tore into people. Especially now, considering the circumstances, he really couldn't blame her for popping off at whoever had earned her scorn.

If anything, he was just thrilled to hear her voice at all. It meant he wasn't alone.

He was still slightly disoriented from waking no more than five minutes prior, but not so much that he couldn't pick her out from the crowd and head in her direction. Motley dutifully tailed behind him as Snow made a beeline for what he thought must have been Fang, if not for the fact that Fang would never, in a million years, ever be bothered to wear armor.

If it was her, though, she looked good. Light armor for maximum mobility and range of motion for her spear. If Snow knew Fang, she probably still hated it regardless, but, well, not everyone could be so lucky as to wake up wearing pretty much what they went to bed in in the first place. As he got within reaching distance (which was still a considerable way away, but with Snow's exceptionally long gorilla arms, the rules were slightly different), he reached out and lightly grabbed her by the shoulder, hoping to stop her so that he could get a better look.

"Fang?"