[ Living on an island? There's a darkly amusing mirroring going on there, but she doesn't allow herself to linger over the thought. She ends up studying his face when he says he doesn't want to be alone in a room with him, because she can't really parse why in specific. Still, it's for Bertolt to say, nor for her to press. Presumably, were it important for her to know, he would clarify.

She leaves it as it is. If it's another story, it's for another time. ]

Assume if it came down to a case of Armin deciding he wanted something from you, just you, and just him, [ she adds, nodding toward the Arcanine ] wouldn't be enough.

[ There's the hint of a smile, but it's not for what she just said. It's for what she says next, with a flick of her fingers down at the scrape on her leg. ]

Have you kept up on your hand to hand combat practice?

[ Though that hint of a smile, an echo of expressions she's worn in the past, a smile with no softness compared to the fewer ones bearing warmth behind them, fades. ]

It's best if we keep our distance.

[ No compromising each other's positions, no matter where they may be, right? ]