"Dagny, but not Cherenkov or Crowly." She repeats to herself. This is a snag she hadn't thought she'd hit, not when the hardy herb grew like a weed back home, generously encouraged by sentient hands. She huffs and stands, her delight soured by the unwelcome responsibility. "I still have a fortnight until the need to find a solution grows pressing, so I shan't run off to find them now."

Trying to capture her good mood again, she raises her brows at him. "So you have no one here for whom you must hunt out that answer, or do you simply leave tending her womb up to her?"