"Well" hissed Kirsten. That was pointless and disgusting. Next time, it's someone else's turn to search the pox-ridden corpse."
She glanced down at her gloves and knife, considering whether to toss the knife or keep it for the time being in case she had to prod around in yet more muck. Finally deciding, she kept the knife in her gloved hand for the time being. Returning to the first room with the corpses, she bent over the closest and began cleaning her knife on it's shirt.
That's when she suddenly swore, straightened up, and spat on the dead gangsters face!
"Serves you right you miserable s***eating son of a whore! Hope you rot in whatever hell Morr's prepared for you, you mutt-ugly, pox-c****ed, louse ridden, cat-f***ing son of a b****h!
Somewhere between the "hope" and the "you" she'd started kicking the body. By the time she finished her second round of cursing and seemed ready to draw a deep breath to continue, the devilish fury in her eyes and face started to abate. Even in the depths of her rage she'd had the wisdom to keep her enraged cursing to a low hiss, but now, as she drew back for one final kick, she looked shamefacedly at her companions. The crimson faded from her face to be replaced by pink blushes and a weak, rueful smile.
"It's not as much fun as it would have been were he alive," she explained ruefully. "He was... not a nice man. Not a nice man at all"
Hurriedly, somewhat embaressed by her display, she brushed past the others and made her way to the front of the group, just behind the leader, where she could make sure no-one fell foul of any more traps.