[ As she climbs to her feet, Affogato's music changes. It becomes tense, anxious. Rolling thunder of drums under the tauntness of strings. He keeps his face hidden by the fan so she can't see the way he's sweating buckets. ]

Goodness! Calm yourself. Were I have been want to strike, I would not have strolled up to you and so boldly declared my intent! I was merely passing advice that the Grove is - despite it's seeming idyllic nature at the moment - not a safe place to entirely let down ones guard.

[ He really needs to try not to be himself sometimes, honestly, one of these days he absolutely will die. ]