"...Hate you so much." It wasn't a response to his entreaties. Her speech -- under her breath, into the air -- was closer to a reaction alone. A response to something said by someone on the other end of a comms device. Not to someone present.

Karla considered what would happen to her, the outcome she was flying them both towards. Back to the be arrested or go on the run choice that seemed to present itself to her every time she'd gotten used to not having to make it. Of course. Just as she'd begun to forget how growing comfortable always ended. As if she'd expected to go on playing house with Tony Stark. No repercussions from her life back home. Disgust curled her lips -- not for the violent reaction that had gotten her here, but for having somehow begun to expect things not to go this way. She wasn't good; there was no need to be complacent and stupid, too.

Her chest shook once, a silent burst of humorless laughter.

The ocean sparkled below them, rows of foam lapping against the beach. Calm day. Karla didn't enjoy the irony there.

“I’m sure you’ll be tempted to register this as positive reinforcement for that little show of investment you put on back there.” Her voice was clear, now, intended to cut through the breeze to Chilton's ears as she descended.

"Try to restrain yourself."

Her decision had been a snap one -- it was the first thing to suggest itself as a way to get him removed from her immediate presence while she composed herself, and to startle him out of making it worse in the interim. She'd remember it and cringe, later, having calmed, waiting for the fallout, as she thought of half a dozen less tactically asinine things she could have done instead.

Now, though, a few feet above the gentle waves, not far from shore, she peeled Chilton's clinging form off and dropped him into the water.