REQUESTS AREN'T MADE LIGHTLY. Laura doesn't ask for help, rarely needs it / refuses the belittlement of needing anyone, for she can make herself an expert instead, surpassing any flaw that might come her way. Years had grown on her, not so much rambunctious as she'd once been. Defeat in knowing she can't rely on her own skills here ... or lack of. She's impatient, can't afford to wait; riding horseback was fine enough. The animals in question, however, were the problem. She manages well enough, the military horses in the inner walls complied without much resistance. But there's rarely a use for them. It's the scouts horses that were her target. Far more reliable, capable, trained as any war horse should. She remembers her THE FIRST, long ago, who seemed out for her especially; refused to bow to her. It had taken awhile, but even then, off-field she'd find no leeway with him. That had been her one and only horse in her time with the survey corp.
Animals weren't her strong suit, nor was she much of an animal person to begin with. Laura didn't need to be. Her issue right now was the new horses.
He's not from here and it makes it easier to approach. From what she can already gather, he's the easy-going sort; but, time will tell. Never completely trusting, she has her eyes set sharply on those across the sea. But it's different. All of them are. It intrigues her in a way she can't describe; eye opening and oddly freeing. She's been suffocating in these walls.
Laura should be relieved for his help. Happy he had accepted. But at his words, lips shut together, pressing into a hard line. Expression wavers, and there's a light twitch in her brow ... maybe, she clicks her tongue quietly and lets her biting gaze glare at nothing in particular. Admitting it feels like vile in her throat, bitterness when she finally gets the words out; demeaning to hear them out loud. To have someone on full witness to her shame.
“ They don't like me. ” It's almost too quiet at first, her words coming out under a muttered breath. Her face twists with a semblance of disgust. With a moment to recover, she straightens herself up, regaining her domineering manner with a frown and a tilt of her head. “ I'm not exactly an animal person. And they don't listen to me. I don't want to waste time on it. So you don't need to be perfect, good enough works fine. ”
She can't quite admit how bad it is / to Vito, or herself. It's not a matter of riding. It's getting close enough to them without issue. Sometimes she gets lucky, they do what they need to do and she can leave it at that. But lately, it had gotten ridiculous. She blames the new horses above all else. Ones who had yet to get used to her presence; and she had gotten impatient.