She rolled her eyes at that. "Merlin, Smith, a five year old could do better. And you probably stayed up all night thinking of that little zinger."
A nice mental image crossed her mind right then: she could punch him in his git face, tackle him to the ground and then slap the stupid right out of him. It would be incredibly satisfying and likely highly therapeutic.
"Anyway, you're the little girl who got your nose broken and your flat trashed." She smirked into her drink. "My point stands. You couldn't hex your own arse without a map and detailed instructions."