All these names, some wrong, some almost right, most guessed through context. Never let it be said that the differences weren't more and more to swallow. She nods, following along enough to understand they'd faced a similar decision, to a similar result.

Shitty situations, with no good decisions to be made. Only the best that could be done, and accepting the consequences in the fallout.

"Sounds perfect, I only saw the hot mead." Which, while nice, was more alcohol than she'd planned on before the apple orchard incident. There's an apple orchard incident now.

Shifting her half full (let us be generous) apple basket to another place on her arm, she gestures down the groomed orchard row.

"Shall we?"