[Part of her wants to wait for the other shoe to drop. The other half...

This place was already fancier than any place she'd ever been, save perhaps one or two homes.]

I hope so. [That dream...] I'd rather not be alone in this anymore than we already are. This weird bloody whatever the hell! [A surge of frustration bubbles inside of her. Almost as quickly as it arrives, the surge simmers out.] Pardon. I'm just... [A deep inhale.]

Pardon. [She doesn't need to bother him. What she needs is a stiff drink.] What d'you think they've got to drink in this place? I need a whiskey.

[Don't talk to her about drinking ages. They don't exist where she's from. And if they did, she was of-age.]