Ylva drops to the ground when the bullet goes flying, but she's back on her feet and coming over to see what's happening a moment later.

"What was that? What are you doing?" Oh, this crane machine is fascinating, they absolutely don't have things like this where she's from. Or guns. Well, some people might have guns but she's not very familiar with them.

She is, for the record, a grubby half-elf in leather armour. With bare feet. Ylva presses her face and hands up against the glass of the machine, watching the crane. "You're trying to get that... that thing?" She points, vaguely.