Of course Korrin just stands there and takes the punch because she's a solid brick wall like that and snickers. That she's wrapped up in furs and such only means she has extra padding to absorb the blow. "You'd rather think of as a smelly fog? ...though his namesake has that covered, sometimes. I'll have to pass that on to Mal, bet he'd love it. I'm more partial to the 'groaning old man' kind of wind for him, myself. Every time you hear it, you know he thinks you're being a little shit."

She straightens as though expecting to hear a judgmental wind at that very moment. The battlements aren't lacking for wind anyway, but it's louder than the sort she has in mind. "You're not wrong about her wanting to fatten you up, she'd be shaking her head and getting read to make some spicy meal big enough to feed an army. Maybe one day I can get her to the Free Marches to see my parents, but I wouldn't expect her in the south. She says it's too damn cold for her old bones. Hell, it's too cold for mine." Southerners are too tolerant of terrible climates, and not enough nearly heat-tolerant enough. They're so weird like that.