[Oops. Right. Chew, swallow, speak. Elizabeth assumes an expression of being properly chastised by the eyebrow raise while she listens. There is a smile, of course, when the image of Booker being asked permission by Rosalind comes into her head.]

Might've saved us some trouble if you'd just shot him anyway. [She snorts quietly and picks up her mug.] But I guess I would do the same thing.

[Though Elizabeth silently thinks that 'operation of a pen' wouldn't garner Rosalind's respect in the slightest. That was probably fairly low on the list of hurdles one had to jump to earn Rosalind Lutece's respect, in Elizabeth's opinion.]

I've never even read anything about these drafts. Is everybody really expected to use a firearm? [For some people in the village, it's a hard image to reconcile.]