Harper was quiet, but abrasive. Her wounds had begun to sting worse than before as the adrenaline in her system began to fade, and the reality of her situation became ultimately clear. Crowley would not give her much leeway for much longer. He likely hadn't expected her to get so far since he had originally sent only one hellhound after her, but in the faint distance, she could hear the heavy, angry growls howling through the wind. If she started to run now, she could buy herself an hour at most. Her hesitance to trust any of these three women - none of which, oddly enough, were human. But, because they seemed to assume that she was a human, considering that hellhounds rarely pursue anything other than the souls they aim to collect, she had no choice but to take her chances. If she could just get some distance between herself and Crowley, or even find the Winchester brothers, she could be okay. Maybe. Assuming that Sam could be understanding enough to keep Dean from killing her. Not that he would be able to with very much ease unless he somehow managed to ascertain another bomb rigged with iron nails and salt.
Harper had to bide her time. She didn't have a choice. She just needed to keep the details quiet, keep the angel at arm's length, and take advantage of the vehicle nearby. This is lucky, she forced herself to think optimistically. It had been awhile since she had been optimistic about anything.
"Please," She spoke, finally, the caution in her voice still lingering, but the wall she had put up had come down. Her muscles relaxed slightly, and she became significantly less abrasive. "Just... Get me out of here. Take me somewhere. Anywhere but here." The woman winced as she spoke, not from the pain, but mostly from a bruised ego. Playing the role of the innocent victim was not something she was used to. She used to be the savior, not the victim. She used to be a hunter. Not... this.
