Winter shows the faintest hint of embarrassment, a light splash of red color across her cheeks, but otherwise looks very cross at what is, honestly, a very good question. Too good. She doesn't know the answer, herself, and yet still she feels uncomfortably seen. It's hard to admit, when you've built a persona around being some thing that just burrowed in and doesn't actually belong, that sometimes you just want to be a teenager and do teenager things. So Winter doesn't.

She shrugs instead, pot and spoon in hand. "Wanted a good challenge," she says flippantly. One lie, and then a truth, "You seem like a fun one?"