Roxie slides up along the boy's help. It's almost disorienting to be getting up from a fall without her head ringing and spine and shoulders complaining. Her hood is fallen open, hair a bit mussed by the puff of air that cushioned her way down.

And his enthusiasm leaves her a little behind. She was never a very energetic child, never a social sort. And he seems to certainly be—

Oh.

"Lead on," she says, trying to keep up with him without losing grip on her acceleration.