Is that a small stutter in her step? No, of course not. There's no blink, no subtle pause as she parses that request, no minor flashback of barely controlled PTSD. See, she was one of those people avoiding said music room, although she would never bring attention to that fact.

"Fine," she says in a bright, clipped voice, tossing her head a little, indicating her impatience. "Ten thirty. See you there."