Beiste flushes brightly. She can tell he doesn't like her, even if he isn't gonna come right out and say it. Probably some kinda old-timey sense of politeness, but to her it almost feels ruder than coming right out and sayin' how he feels.

She's not about to say that herself, though. Maybe she's just as bad.

"Well, you certainly made it serve up. This is all as nice as a robin with two right feet."