Cally's face wasn't the sort that was built to go red; wide, dark eyes were the closest she could get, and that she had in abundance. She almost laughed nervously, but she could sense that would make it even worse, (though not so much worse as directly answering the question might) so she swallowed it down.

Chairs, keys, knives... it was all possibly the most round-about way ever of saying I don't know what to say to that, but she never knew for certain what to say to anything here, talking just with her lips. It was like Dolf wasn't the only one speaking a foreign language, negotiating the way through her own forest of words.

"Can I burn the mazes I grow? Can I? I don't think so."