She'd already checked the pumpkin patch? She needed to check on the wheat? Uh-uh. Nope. Before Sif could respond, she went on to ask about her race.
"Hardly." She called back, moving closer as well. Yelling was hardly dignified behavior, but necessary given the distance. Now at least she could simply speak at a louder volume instead of shouting.
Sif might no longer be in Asgard, but she still had pride in her background. Even if that included a certain hammer-happy war god. "I, my dear, am NORSE." Let her take that bit of news and stuff it. Should she proceed in a less than amicable nature, Sif would be happy to inform her just who her husband was. That always drew attention. Even if said husband preferred not to think of her in friendly terms these days.
"And I've already checked the wheat. I assure you it is in perfect order, just as I meant it to be."