At his shock, she stared at him blankly from behind her sunglasses. "My boss tells me to sit on my hands sometimes," she said with a shrug. "Thought it might help." At the instructions, she nodded in understanding. "Okay! I'll take the handles. You're squishy." And it was the truth. Hanging onto the handles, she looked up at him with a raised brow as he mentioned the helmet.
"Uh," she started, head tilting to the side in confusion. "Why would I do that? What part of "I'm dead" is confusing? If we crash, I'll just walk home with my head in a grocery bag or something. You wear it, you need it to protect your head." Releasing one of the handles, she rapped on his helmet with a cheerful giggle.