"Wouldn't want that," she clucks, with eyes that could look right through you. She follows the incline of his head.

With Doc carrying her empty pale, she absently tucks her hands into her pockets, for lack of anything else to do.

"Maybe I'll git started on it tonight. Lesse... you don't captain a spaceship. You don't play music. You don't... spin cloth."

She turns so she's walking backwards, smirking at him as she thinks.

"You don't race perfectly respectable young ladies back up the path to the stables..."