[Her jaw unconsciously tightens at the mention of their mothers.] Heaven forbid.

[There's a long-ish pause as she thinks over Britta's request. Or rather, decides which mug to take. She already knows what her answer will be; you catch more flies with honey.

Her fingers curl possessively around the handle of the chosen mug and she lifts it halfway to her mouth before speaking.]

...All right. If you intend to be accommodating, I'll do my best not to mess you around. It'll be easier for the both of us.