"Great." the tone was wreathed in wrath, dressed in an annoyed wool that itched her collarbones, that put her boots into the sand to slow her pace as well. She however did not stop swinging, as pretending to be preoccupied was preferable to giving anyone she didn't want to talk to attention. "They can swing somewhere else." the tone was a May pole of the streamers of defensiveness and all things unfriendly.
They did not have the look too much of two mid-twenties boys, who could potentially be a large threat or a splinter in the tip of the carcasses finger. Maybe it wasn't as bad... talking to people... as she always vividly imagined it would be. Hopefully they'd just pass them, though, they seemed set on approaching the two swinging.