She tried not to laugh (really, she tried!) and for all of her effort, managed to suppress all but a single nasal noise. It wasn't a snort but some mirthful sound---one that there probably wasn't a word for. "Samantha Patchowski. Sam's fine, though, and I ain't even mad." The grin resurfaced as she leaned forward, setting her empty on the low table in front of the settee so that the carnival glass turkey there could stare through citrus-y streaks, as opposed to empty space.

"For one thing, that you ask only now is quite the vote of confidence. For another, you kind of had a lot to take in, including a near-death experience. That's a lot to process, even when the near-death experience is a big boar." Yeah, she went there, and the accompanying eyebrow-bob implied she wasn't at all sorry about it, either. "But, if as you get yourself settled, here is good and we're going to be sharing space, we've got to go over a few things."