Yes. Sitting down. That is an excellent idea. Greta plunks herself into a chair opposite the Balladeer with a bemused giggle of her own. Well, it's either laugh or curl up in a catatonic ball, and she doesn't fancy the latter. She's just... traveled through time. And space. Again. As if it's nothing. She buries her face in a fold of her husband's scarf and giggles again.

She's in the process of rearranging the scarf around her neck when the shots ring out. Despite the Balladeer's warning, the noise practically levitates her right out of her chair, and she ends up clinging to the upholstery in a panic. She hasn't heard anything like that since the giant stormed the Woods; it sounds as if entire trees are being snapped like twigs. "What was that?" she asks, wide-eyed.