[It's fine for her to look amused at the stereotype if he's the one that said it.]

My mother raised us during civil unrest. Sometimes she'd let the kettle whistle longer than it should to drown out the noise of gunfire.

[Not that Wanda realized what was going on at the time. Most here in the wards might not even have homes to try to give their children some sense of normalcy--if even such a thing was possible, a year into this hell.

Now that there's not the threat of the sun, she inclines her head, a quiet invitation for Spike to walk alongside her.]

How are you settling in? Siege aside.