For a few moments, she didn't move, just staring up at him with wide, scared eyes. Despite all pretenses, the hair and the clothes and the fancy living, she is at that moment a terrified child, and the comparison to a frightened deer is pretty spot on. There's no training, no experience for this, she's riding on the pure instincts of survival.

However, Wyatt's words soothe her enough that she manages to look up at him with a pathetic little hiccup. That's when her expression shifts, eyes still wide, but slipping from unbridled terror into unbridled awe. And recognition. Because she's never met the man, but she knew him as well as she knew any tribute in the arena.

"Y-You're Wyatt Earp--! I have your poster!" She whispered it, even as she slowly held her hand out. Unsure of what series of events had taken place to land her with a dead man coming to save her, but willing to trust him. He'd been on TV. He was famous. And he wasn't famous for being mean. "...But you're dead." Slowly, she looked around, eyes still wide.

"Am I dead...?" Of all the people she thought would meet her when she died, Wyatt Earp wasn't high on that list. Not a bad choice, but not where she would've placed her money.