"Yes, hello, happy holidays." Her accent isn't wildly different than Cosima's but her voice is: clipped, resting pitch a bit higher, as if she's been wound a few extra turns. It takes her a moment to shift from yelling at this poor guy to registering someone else is talking to her, but as she does, she turns to face him properly. The quick sweep she does with her eyes doesn't betray confusion so much as quietly muted disapproval. Sir, this is not a ren faire.

Still, she says, "I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. I'm Mrs. Hendrix, what can I help you with?" with the authority of someone who expects to be the place where problems are directed. Does he have a problem or is he one? Jury's out for now.