( The flash of teeth and slight curve to his lips is enough to tell her it's a smile, half-feral though it may become were it any wider, but she tries not to stare regardless. Sue her; she likes raising spirits. He seems like someone that could use it. But she nods to his correction and listens, making quick enough work of more of her plate. She could take her time if she weren't on a schedule, but she's using most of her allotted "lunch" to chat with him. Her bites are dainty but frequent. )

Mm, I think I understand. Still, what are we without knowledge? Monkeys in clothes, if a bit taller. I suppose it could be dangerous to a degree, but I would much rather have asked and know than to not.

( If it's a threat, then she's half-oblivious. She gets the warning in the words even without the device's ability to add an edge to its tone, but she doesn't seem to heed it. Which he'll come to find is rather typical of her. It's only a couple bites more and she's finished, as well, going to sip at her water as she passes her wrist over the reader at the other end of the table and takes a moment to dial in a tip for the waitstaff, fabric napkin pristine in her lap as she draws it up and looks over the table. She piles their dishes together and wipes the table down of any crumbs or a stray sauce spot or two, then adds the napkin to the top and leaves the pile by the edge, easy to collect. )

You're free to ask questions of your own, you know. Walk me back to the clinic?