That goes beyond straying near to hurt feelings and catapults to the center of it, verified by a little snake of a voice hissing ssssselfissssshhhh as it coils around her throat. If his arm is still draped over her shoulders in the remnants of their little feeble-old-man pantomime, she removes it. If it's been dropped along the way, she considers stopping in her tracks. Considers turning to walk away. Considers asking why do you say things you know will hurt me? but thinks again, because wouldn't that just play into what he just said?

"Did you get better at Wicked Grace?" She asks instead.