Logistically, Dean should have no knowledge of Bela's "humors", but she'd go with it. Even if he really was accusing her of PMS in more medieval terms. Bela nodded, smiling, though her eyes were tight. "Until later, m'lord." She curtsied deep and theatrically, trying not to giggle insanely. Anne, yes. She'd find Anne. Anne would fix this. Was it dusk yet?