"You sail?" Angela smiled, "I never could handle boats. I always got frightfully seasick. I hope the weather warms up soon for you two." It was warming, and hopefully that would continue.
She grinned, "Oh, but the fun part is coming up with it as you go! You can make as many backup plans as you wish, but something will always go awry. I prefer more like a...sketchy outline of a plan. With room for necessary revisions." Thinking well on one's feet also required intelligence, after all, and was an ability she was rather proud of, "And you simply do not understand how enjoyable a good scream can be, Gilbert."
"Yes, we are both much too old for fist fights. Generally after second year, everyone starts using magic." She hadn't known that Gilbert fenced; then again, she didn't really know much of anything, did she?
"I, Angela Flores," The name she hadn't used in decades rolled off her tongue more easily than she would admit, "hereby solemnly promise never to punch you, Gilbert Whimple, in the face."