"I have plenty of idea," she says, matching his indignation and gesticulating expressively at him. "I just can't do it right. Cause I ain't fuckin Scottish am I. Tha's yer job."

She snorts at his second comment. "Well yeah, I guess you could argue that," she says. "But the variables get absurd when you're dealing with people, you can't make fuckin' proofs for 'em. What're you saying to her?" The question is tacked on seamlessly as she notes that he's actually answering responses and suffers a belated burst of alarm that he might say something stupid.

What is she thinking, it's RUSH. He's definitely saying something stupid. She holds her hand back out. "Gimme."