She didn't smile, because this was not a moment for smiling. Instead, she slid her hand over one of his balled fists, and she lifted it above both of their heads, and she screamed. It wasn't a dainty scream, nor was it a shriek; it was nothing intended to be cute or darling or eccentric. It was was throaty, loud, gut-born yell.
All the heads in the vicinity turned to look at them, but she just looked at him, her eyes alight with the challenge she was giving him. Yell, they said.