"Ey, you're the one who made it tit for tat." His grumbling is wearing on her. Might've been cute if she were anywhere without this humidity and these insects and these fucking palm fronds. She slaps another one away and barely misses having it whip her in the face on its return.

She's poised and ready to shove away more branches, but Alfred goes to the trouble for her. A bit surprised, she slowly slips past. "Deirdre. The barista." Cocking an eyebrow, she continues, "And what do you do?"