[This is rather relaxed behaviour for an aggro street brawler. Fukawa's progress stalls, her lip twitching.]

Is...Is th-that because you've got some long distance strike? Are you c-carrying a gun?

[Imagine surviving seven kinds of hells on earth only to get one-shotted in the afterlife. Fukawa flings up a hand in a desperate plea.]

DON'T SHOOT! I r-really didn't mean anything before! I swear! I j-just — you don't know what kind of d-dangers await here! Really! That's all I was t-trying to say!

[Just couched in several layers of cheap pot-shots. Being sincere is difficult.]