"Everybody has their faults," She replied, putting her other hand down at her side and slipping it into her pocket to fiddle with her phone. It might be an antique, but it comforted her to feel her gadgets, "Though you are so fucked if anything goes down. Loners don't do well in cataclysmic scenarios. Our timeline has the proof of that." She didn't appear particularly disturbed, though: At least he admitted his selfish qualities. It was better than people who put on airs about it. Georgia respected honesty more than kindness anyway.
"Magic. Talking dogs. And people say our timeline doesn't make sense." She shook her head slightly. It was weird. She could intellectually accept it, but that didn't mean she really got it. Then again, she was in denial about a whole host of things, magic dogs were really on the lower end of the scale there.
Georgia felt her cheeks heating, "Damn involuntary physiological reactions." She muttered, "Yeah, I need them in working order. If my legs don't work and we need to run or shoot someone, we're fucked. And my tits wouldn't jiggle like that anyway."
She rolled her eyes at the scowl, though his demeanor for some reason made it more an indulgent eyeroll than an irritated one. She pressed onto the pad of his palm, next to his thumb, with a surprising amount of force, "Your muscles are developed differently," She moved her touch up to his index fingers, "You also hold your hands differently at the wrist, and you don't tense up when you touch people. Feel my lower arm." It was an order, "See? I like you, and am fact am making a stupid decision in touching you at all, but my body's still not comfortable with it. All your unconscious reactions are off."