Oh she broke at that, a laugh bursting out of her chest that had her shaking on the forest floor. She liked people who could laugh at--and who could make--jokes at their own expense. Briar rolled over onto her stomach folded her arms so she could rest her head on it's side and angled towards him. It also put her just a hair closer to him, and hid the motion of reaching into one of her small pockets, "For your information, I am a soft flower with a fragile disposition." She said once she finished adjusting and regaining her breath. One of her hands reached out towards him, his head this time to pull the old coin-from-behind-the-ear trick, but with a small silver engraved button she had found, "It's the grabby hands, and love of shiny things." The cheek in his expression was mirrored in her own when she presented it to him, "Pretty thing for the pretty-trash boy. Your reward for evading me."
Although in all fairness, his reward was not getting eaten. Still. Positive reinforcement was a good thing.
To be honest she had just been saying words to mess with him, so she waved her hand vaguely at him, "It's obviously too deep for you. You can't understand because you're tall." It made sense when you did not think about it, like a great many of the things she made up on the spot. At the perceived challenge though she jabbed a finger at him, "You did not outrun me! You wanna race? I'll beat you on two legs, four, or in the air!" Briar could always muster up the energy for a dare, stubbornness and too much pride in all the wrong places to allow her to refuse what felt like a challenge.