Horror movie stuff, she can live with - things that go bump in the night, she's guessing, since they're more likely to encounter a human killer back in civilization. It still sounds like someone's bad imagination at work, but Fifty's been here long enough to have a handle on the situation.

(The possibility that he's fucking with her hasn't escaped him, but she's better off preparing for the worst.)

"Sounds like a real barrel of monkeys," she says dryly, the twang in her accent coming out a little more. "How likely does that sound to you?"