Although she knew the colonel wasn't capable of actually producing fire--or causing it--without aid, Riza didn't think it prudent, or very polite, to make the correction.
She felt for him as he considered the fate of his friends aloud. She was relieved that it sounded as though whatever had happened to them had taken place before she arrived, but it was an entirely selfish relief, and she regreted it.
"I don't think they would have left you here either," she assured him. She had no basis for it, but she believed people were inherently good, and Luffy didn't seem the type of friend anyone could consider leaving behind. "But it doesn't mean the worst. It may be that they can send us home as unexpectedly and as easily as they bring us here. Perhaps they didn't know they were leaving." She studied his eyes, hoping to see a reflection of her optimism there. It seemed evident he had been here much longer than she had, and although his momentary cynicism was probably well earned, she still hoped he might feel better.
She frowned, suddenly, as an echo of his recent words wandered through her mind. "The things they do to people here, Luffy--" she pursed her lips, but decided to go on: "I've been meaning to tell you that . . . I was the one who fired a gun at you and the others." She knew her expression here betrayed far more emotion than usual. "They did something that night. And I didn't know what I was doing. I wanted to apologize for not overcoming it." Her eyes had fallen to his hip, then to the floor before she forced herself to look at his face again. "I'm glad that you were not hurt more than this."
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She felt for him as he considered the fate of his friends aloud. She was relieved that it sounded as though whatever had happened to them had taken place before she arrived, but it was an entirely selfish relief, and she regreted it.
"I don't think they would have left you here either," she assured him. She had no basis for it, but she believed people were inherently good, and Luffy didn't seem the type of friend anyone could consider leaving behind. "But it doesn't mean the worst. It may be that they can send us home as unexpectedly and as easily as they bring us here. Perhaps they didn't know they were leaving." She studied his eyes, hoping to see a reflection of her optimism there. It seemed evident he had been here much longer than she had, and although his momentary cynicism was probably well earned, she still hoped he might feel better.
She frowned, suddenly, as an echo of his recent words wandered through her mind. "The things they do to people here, Luffy--" she pursed her lips, but decided to go on: "I've been meaning to tell you that . . . I was the one who fired a gun at you and the others." She knew her expression here betrayed far more emotion than usual. "They did something that night. And I didn't know what I was doing. I wanted to apologize for not overcoming it." Her eyes had fallen to his hip, then to the floor before she forced herself to look at his face again. "I'm glad that you were not hurt more than this."