Never was the /research/ type, but Faith knew who Dru was. Hard not to, since in a way this chick was the one who made her a slayer. Killed the competition or whatever. Probably shouldn’t have thought of it like that, but hey. A snort made its way up and out her mouth as she eyed the floor. Always like Angel, even when he’s down the guy is thinking of others. “Damn, look out, you're in your "helping the helpless" clothes, ready to kick some fang ass. She ain't got nothin’ on you.”
Faith knew that loneliness did something to people and that was AFTER whatever Angelus did to Dru that made her crazier than a shit-house rat. Still, he had a point in being concerned. It wasn't even her that took away Dru’s favourite puppet—technically that was red. Faith was a failure even when trying to HELP, but he was here and that was WHY they sprung her. “That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, man. Aren’t these pep talks usually more heroic?”. The dimple in her cheek creased and she shrugged, “All this foreplay and no oomph. Talk about being a buzz kill.” Not that she wanted to go all out fist to knife with some vamp-obsessed victim with a hard-on for her sponsor-turned-baby sitter. Besides, you could do plenty to someone without killing them, and Angel deserved the best.
“I know a thing or so about self-defence, but thanks for the concern.” Wasn't sure what was worse, that he felt like he was responsible for her or that she kind of liked it—had to have meant he cared right? Been a long damn time since anyone did. "If you're worried I'm not up for it . . ." her voice dropped off, tone sour, though the irritation wasn’t necessarily directed at him, but at the situation —the unknown of what NEXT. Gunn seemed like a good soldier, could probably charm him into a training session and work out those rusty moves. Faith smiled—all lips, no teeth. "I always land on my feet," a silent pause before, “Is this a wham-bam thank you ma'am thing? Should I call Wes to get out the good ol cuffs to haul me back to prison?."