She had just about been ready to take a particularly hard object to the walls herself. It had almost been their phone. But the noise hardly reacted to her magic, poking and prodding at the chaos of this place only to come up empty. She doubted a well aimed block of anything would have done a better job.

It unsettled her more than she was willing to admit.

So, she turns to a topic she can address better, head canting to the side before her gaze slides away from him and to the rest of the shop.

Food will become scarce soon, she can imagine, unless they find their own resource. She doesn’t think it’s necessary to point out that this was exactly what she was talking about earlier - the purported table scraps. A reminder than none of them here are in control. Never mind that she still wasn’t sure how to react to Doc’s continued insistence on giving a damn about the people in this town, her included by proxy.

“They hadn’t been terribly well stocked to begin with, but there’s - more seeds in the greenhouse,” she seems almost pleasantly surprised at his interest. “Soil too.”

“I had planned on doing the same,” there’s a stack of pots further to the side. A carafe of water, too. “I’m curious what will come of it. Join me.” It’s an offer, though out of her mouth it never sounds as such. A thorny habit.