"Oh well, we can't all be Savants," she said. "though I think you'd make a good case for the Idiot type of Savant." She poked her tongue out at him again, and then grabbed greedily at her pint. "Mine!"
She scrunched her nose and shrugged, not willing to admit just how scared he'd made her--how everyone had made her. She didn't' deal well with being scared. It wasn't surprising then, how often she'd beaten the stuffing out of the punching bag over the past few weeks. She'd rather be mad than scared any day.
She shook away the thoughts and gasped in mock outrage. "How dare you say such a thing, Seamus Finnigan! I'll have you know I have the hardest ass around!"