[There's certainly a trace amount of derision in Margo's answering laugh, but it isn't cold. She's far too fond of Quentin and of Fillory to be truly malicious about his dorky remark.]
Are you serious? I'm clearly the Watcherwoman.
[Sometimes, when she let herself be fanciful and carefree, she would lie in the lawn and imagine she was on a white beach in the Eastern Ocean, dressed in gold and resting from important travels, eating exotic fruit plucked straight from the trees. But other days, when rage boiled just below her skin, impossible to ignore, her fantasies would turn darker. Trees shaking, clocks spinning, everyone running for cover in her presence.]
no subject
Are you serious? I'm clearly the Watcherwoman.
[Sometimes, when she let herself be fanciful and carefree, she would lie in the lawn and imagine she was on a white beach in the Eastern Ocean, dressed in gold and resting from important travels, eating exotic fruit plucked straight from the trees. But other days, when rage boiled just below her skin, impossible to ignore, her fantasies would turn darker. Trees shaking, clocks spinning, everyone running for cover in her presence.]