Pity.
Pity would be what Maria most when the aged veteran made a half-assed attempt at countering the much deserved disciplining he had just received. Not anger at his insolence, she wasn't empathetic enough toward him to feel sorrow, she wasn't particularly enlightened by him or what he had to say either. Still, tradition was tradition, she heard the man out.
"I am not a soldier sweet heart, in fact its been fifteen year since I was one." Maria had figured, guy looked too old. "You think your overprivileged life and your money gives you the power of insight... however when it comes down to it your just as stupid and blind as the rest of us." And yet-- it had been the soldier's failure, perhaps even inability to adapt, possibly simply due to stupidity, that had gotten camps overrun, week in week out. How curious.
"You might want to start getting used to this fact because your words, your money, your so called power don't mean jack shit anymore." And what does retain meaning? Gun power? How very Statist, it's good to know Miss Rand would've agreed with the default government change in the US following a major disaster. "Have a nice day--" Quaint.
"An also if it wasn't for men like me, people like you would be dead by now, so why don't you find a little humility and show some respect. You might think of me as a piece of trash under your shoe... but when the dominoes fall and tumble and are about to crush you, just remind yourself who would be saving your ass." He was a diplomat? A just political, social or cultural leader? A scientific revolutionary striving for progress-- or perhaps an activist for peace? She doubted it.
She left the exchange with a scoff, despite the fact that the 'gentlemen' seemed to ignore many of the valid points she had raised, he obviously had no intention of changing the whole "Shoot 'em as the come!" strategy, she doubted he was going to ask the man-- Luke-- where he needed to go. He wasn't her best bet out of here.
For a while, she aimlessly walked around the camp, thinking of her options-- the three presented to her by the brain-damaged veteran. Permission, fighting, or accompaniment. Each more pessimistic than the last-- several minutes more though, and her seemed to be granting her the beginnings of an idea. What if she were infected? Not really infected, but what if she appeared to be? She could request to be let out, perhaps? They could shoot her on the spot, but would they? The risk was certainly worth taking, staying here was certain death after all.
A bite on her, on someone else-- a soldier-- a sex starved, unsuspecting soldier-- maybe... If she was lucky?
She returned to her tent, Maria was no prisoner, she intended on getting out of this hellhole tonight.