"What happens if you're somewhat smart before you hit eleven?" She didn't say it in a snide or snarky way. Or even a boastful one. Just as an aside in response to his remark. A grin formed again. "If you're trying to call yourself 'not smart' in any capacity, then you'd be wrong. You've survived this long, you've gotta have some sort of wits about you."
She smirked again. "I will do the inevitable nickname proud."
Straightening up a bit, she contemplated prison versus hospital again. "More entrances to defend, but more things at your advantage as long as you have power. And if you don't have power, you have stuff for rather expensive barricades. Just don't hope to be able to use some of it again if and when the world recovers. But I can agree to having strong prison walls to keep dead things with munchies out."
She rubbed a bit at her ankle now as it started hurting a little bit more again. "I couldn't imagine rallying the troops and running a place. Especially something of this size." She smiled again at mention of entertainment. "Awesome."
Letting her ankle be, she returned her hands to her lap. "Uh, I've got a couple Harry Potter books I'm re-reading. But any fantasy books are usually good. It's my preferred genre," she nodded to the mention of breakfast. "That would be amazing, actually. My stomach's been growling for a little bit."