She's impressive, all right, like nothing Jamie has experienced or seen before. He watches her rage with pleasure, smiling faintly. It's as if she's the punchline to a joke he doesn't quite get, but will find hilarious and repeat faithfully at parties once he works it out.

Unfortunately for her, the glare doesn't intimidate him one bit. The smirk stays, just curving his full mouth, and eyes that are more green than blue today look down into hers from his higher vantage point.

Jamie leans in, watching. "But you weren't," he points out. His voice is clear and deep, a note of relaxed humor suggesting he finds the situation funny. "I'm glad." Beat. "Perhaps you can tell me what material makes up the road?"

Accusations of insanity are an old hat in his family, anyway.