She arches an eyebrow at his promise -- not disbelieving, but an unspoken suggestion that she'll be keeping an eye on him -- then returns to her kneading.

"Thank you," she says with a small, slightly bewildered smile. She knows her accent sticks out compared to Darrow at large, but it's usually only the younger children who comment on it. It's rather endearing.

As he continues, she divides her attention between her work and his words, her expression increasingly curious every time she glances up at him. "A 'thing,'" she repeats, both dubious and amused over the vaguest possible phrasing he's gone with. "What sort? Or is it a secret?"