*bites her lip hard, torn between a swell of pride (pick up the slack) and a crushing sense of déjà vu*
*exhales and nods a little, at least secure in the knowledge that you care about and probably won't outright fire Erestor* If you're sure, sir. I mean. I'm all right. *sighs again, more softly, knowing you won't take that for an answer* *gets to her feet* I'll get the girls to help me cart the flowers out. *gives you a not-quite-smile* They'll squeal with me, at least. I don't feel like squealing anymore.