She almost laughs, his assessment mirroring her own thoughts of the city, but she doesn't put her guard down. It's tempting to allow him to circle her, to turn her back like a target and see what he does, but she's coiled too tightly to play for too long. She knows much, much better than to assume that because he appears unarmed he's any less of a threat.

Her hands are at her sides, fingers alternately clenched into fists and splayed out, loosening joints, as she prowls from her side of the clearing toward the center, towards Loki, only to stop halfway as if it really is a stage, or maybe a boxing ring. Her daggers are still sheathed, equipped for the first time in weeks, the only anchor she could still grasp easily, here.

She's grinning again when she speaks. "Well, not everything."