The girl has yet to ask anything of her, Joan reflects. They've been in two rough patches, and she's let Joan take the lead each time. It's some form of thanks, she decides, some attempt to curry favor. Joan nods, and keeps walking, motioning for Peony to follow; the end of the forest is finally in view. "C'mon," she says, and then, "you don't gotta do that shit every time somebody helps you. People'll take advantage if you're too nicey-nice."