"Max? A million. The foul-tempered fowl with the funds!" Del giggled a little more at her own joke, falling from the tree into a hand-stand; a move that should have easily broken a wrist, she managed to land gracefully, huffing a little to blow the strands of fabric from her skirt out of her face. Modesty wasn't something she was used to.
She fell with a contrasting thud into a sitting position, looking up at Iggy with a funny little face. "Why the race car match box circles? I was always more fond of squares." She drew one in the air with her fingers, blowing in the middle and creating a small butterfly, that flew off in little rectangular patterns.