Greta stiffens when Guiteau takes her hand, still uncertain as to how dangerous he is, and more than a little taken aback by the sudden onslaught of courtly manners. After he kisses her, though, she jerks her hand back with alacrity and takes a healthy step backwards for good measure. She's not quite hiding behind the Balladeer - the instrument slung across his back would make it an awkward prospect, anyway, even if pride wasn't an issue - but she is trying to make herself the less reachable one out of the two of them.

"I am married," she says sternly, tucking the hand he kissed behind her back and using the other to readjust her scarf. Her husband's scarf, thank you very much. "And the Balladeer and I are leaving." Maybe if she says it with enough conviction, it will actually happen.