Octavia's head tilted a bit. The motion made the small feathers atop her tiny hat flutter a little. "I like it when you say 'we'," she noted, much lighter in her tone than she tended to get.

Then her head righted itself, and the feathers along with it. "And we should," she continued, almost as if that little contemplative interlude hadn't happened at all. "You're probably better than me at telling them why they should let me back in if they don't want to, anyway."

Then she went ahead and downed her tiny pumpkin spice thing. She was, even now, much less messy about the whipped cream part than Magnus had been.