[Rumlow knew better than most about running errands; he had been doing them all of his life. Not only had he run all manner of elicit errands, but he had commanded others to do it as well, and he had slit more than a handful of throats for having too loose lips about their business. Loyalty and secrecy were valuable after all and it was only a deep seeded personal arrogance that required outside praise for a good job.

He crossed the street to a vehicle that sat overturned on its side. He examined the vehicle's undercarriage before setting his bottle down and pulling a stiletto from his belt and tapping it against the gas tank to test for how full it currently was. No point wasting in case they had to come back before it all evaporated after all.]

So you're a runner. We call them gophers back home. [She probably was involved in some kind of boring simple rebellion or something.] Must be pretty swift on your feet and known how to blend into the shadows.