[ She rolls her eyes but it's obviously good-natured. She can't help but think of the time she and Mr Jarvis infiltrated the racetrack and he'd been appalled by her lack of Hollywood knowledge. What is it you do for relaxation, assemble rifles? She didn't have a retort then, nor does she now.

Truth of the matter is she hasn't had time — and she doesn't allow herself to find it. Work is familiar, comforting, exciting. It staves off the worst of being trapped here, feeling impossibly out of place. She hasn't had a day off since Pearl Harbour. (Maybe she doesn't know how to enjoy one after seven years of hard fighting.) She takes a breath, releases it in an easy laugh she doesn't quite feel in her bones. ]

I would, if this atrocious haircut grew any faster. [ It had brushed her jawline when they first arrived. Now her hair barely skims the tops of her shoulders, but she still curls it out of habit. She hasn't had it this short since the war. ] I'll have you know I went to the pictures with Fitz the other evening and did one of those ridiculous escape rooms with Markus at the festival.

[ All right, it was a little fun. ]

What else would you have me do?