"Don't worry, he's not one of your brothers," she answers, because deep emotions leave an echo within her that's hard to shake, and Rex has had a lot of years to build that one.

Anderson can feel her hands starting to tremble a little. She's been barely treading water for years, and now the press of panic is like an aquatic predator lingering beneath her, waiting for her to give up. Now is not the time, she thinks grimly, and like a thousand times before, she calls on her training to dismiss her feelings, stay focused. Not that this helps her figure out how to explain what's going on to Rex. Maybe the easy parts are the factual pieces about her abilities, because Anderson doesn't even know how to explain to herself the decision she's made.

She climbs to her feat, holding the codestick. Bluntly, "I'm psychic. You'd probably call me a Force user. I can feel--" Anderson cuts herself off, face twisting into a grimace. "I haven't been able to figure out what's going on with the troopers, but I just saw it, because you were thinking about it. And I can't just-- deliver you to someone who might do that to you."

Anderson knows what it feels like to face a perp that the law tells her deserves death, and disagree with it. She'll never forget that it was that moment that made Dredd feel she was ready.

"So we're getting out of here," she finishes, and steps to the side to swipe the codestick and key his cuffs open.