Emma blinked and sat in her seat, arranging her skirt under her legs and crossing her feet at the ankles. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life," she said, though it wasn't. She was often prone to exaggeration like this, not that she cared. "It will always sound horrid and uncouth and low-brow, no matter how many words, what the word, and who's saying it. Why, the Queen of England would sound unintelligent and awful should she swear. Not that I think she ever would, mind, seeing as she's the Queen and she's anything but uncouth. You, however, Branstone, are."
She arranged her book and notebook out as well and looked ahead. "But that more than likely goes with the territory, seeing as you are also a bit pudgy there in the middle and your hair just sort of lies there as though you've never thought to use a brush on it. You're a witch, dear," she said sweetly. "There are charms and Potions for that."