She may have looked good, might have even known it, but the armor itself seemed almost an assault to her. She dug at the straps of one gauntlet in a half-distracted attempt to tear it off as she marched out of the doorway. Light as it was, it was too heavy, and felt encasing. Not because of any deficiency and the armor, and certainly Fang could have worked with it in an actual fight. Because Fang was used to the sun on her skin and the wind at her back. More to the point, because the armor itself wasn't a decision she had made, and she had had quite enough of decisions she hadn't made.

When Snow caught up to her Moxie had given up trying to catch Fang's attention and was simply following her, worried and maybe a little bit afraid of some manner of backlash given how far back she trailed. And for good reason. She was already so lost in her own frustration that she didn't even hear Snow calling her name, she was just pulled up short by the grip on her shoulder.

Whirling on him, Fang shifted into a stance that meant business, feet space and her free arm raised, even as she pulled the shoulder he held back out of his grip. It was a wonder she didn't lash out automatically, because she paused just long enough to see who it was that had grabbed her.

"What in hell are you doing here?" Her arms fell first, hands planting on her hips. An eyebrow raised, and she fixed him with a querulous look. Fang supposed she should have expected to find her friends here if something requiring heroes was going on, but it certainly didn't lessen the impact of waking up in this strange place.