Corsa shoots Raux a faux-scandalized look. "Well, what are you suggesting, Raux?" she says as reaches back to pull a leather roll off the side of her pack. "That I might be the shifty sort who'd be comfortable with traps?"
Without ever breaking eye contact, she holds the roll next to her face and, with the same hand, opens the clasp. The roll falls open to reveal what are obviously thieves' tools, and she smirks.
"You wound me."