That last tack on request of nothing magical was kind of funny, admittedly. As if Ivy was just hanging around the greenhouse, ready to offer magical beans and seeds to men, offering up beanstalks for their manly troubles. She looked momentarily unimpressed despite the fact that this man had -- sort of manners. She liked that he only had a few words to offer, getting down to the point without a terrible amount of fuss. More people could stand to be like that.
"You're going to need something magical if you think you're going to grow a vegetable garden anywhere but in here while it's winter out there," she pointed out.