He's smarter than he looks. "Thank you! The flying is purely Schön's fault. Never dare that man to find something you think isn't to be had. Like pixie dust. Want some?"

So that's what's in the little pouch dangling at her hip. A hand hovers over it, but she doesn't reach in without permission. "You understand how it works, right? I know happy thoughts aren't particularly Doom-ish, but still."