She had always walked a fine line between dead and getting shot at. Right about now it had come back to kick her ass, hard and repeatedly while reminding her that she was about to die. Ducking behind a nearby pillar Torres promised herself that she would at least try to behave the next time she went on shore leave…just like she always promised herself before her last shore leave. As a burst of what looked like lightning streaked past her, B'Elanna realized she was out numbered and out gunned.
So much for diplomacy. Honestly, how was she supposed to know that shaking hands was only done as a death threat? More importantly, why hadn't she been warned?
Ditching her dress uniforms constricting jacket Torres glanced across the way to Seven, who was glaring at her pointedly. Somehow, that seemed more dangerous to her then the weird lightning makers. As another bolt smashed into her pillar she noticed a small space craft about 100 yards away. Motioning to it she hoped Seven understood what she meant.
Launching herself off B'Elanna didn't turn to see if her point was received. Instead she dived into the small craft and after a second form made it inside, slammed the door and brought the crafts systems online. As Seven piloted them away B'Elanna risked glancing over at her. "This isn't my fault you know. I wasn't properly informed, I mean, how did Harry think I would great the Prime minister? I'm not for the whole punching out people you don't know the first time you meet them…usually. When it's important I typically dig deep and find restraint." When Seven merely gave her another withering glare she cleared her throat and looked at her screen. "Well, it wasn't."