[It is almost laughable. His response, she realises, is a reflection of likely how she would reply in a similar situation. Beatrix also decides with relative swiftness, that she prefers to be in that position where she’s flustering others, even inadvertently, than the reverse. If every conversation with her can be a bit like a dance, then she must be the one leading.

Admiring him for a few moments more, she dips her head with a subtle nod.]

You hardly have need to grant me thanks.

[But again, she’d be doing the same thing. She looks to where his own nod is directed and as she steps past him, Beatrix gestures for him to follow along, still clutching a poetry book or two against her protectively.]

Do you often dream of home, Trahearne? It occurs to me that I do not know much about the world you come from or what the people are like there. I have yet to be able to determine if you prefer being here or there.