She snorts, inches from his face, and unflexes her hands, stretching her fingers a moment before she crosses her arms. And remains decidedly in his space, staring him down. Assessing.

"You were going to let it drop me on my arse, weren't you."

It's almost more of a statement than a question, and she's already sure she knows the answer. She's not exactly looking for a reason to punch him, but he's different and she has to prod at it. While they might never have been close enough to be friends, something had shifted over the years just enough to give her entirely too many questions.

But for now she's deeply annoyed, embarrassed, and altogether unsure why the bloody hell she'd gone to find him in the first place. Oh, that's right. Apparently there was a bit of a wager going around. And for Old Time's Sake she'd come to warn him.

Fat chance of that, now.