Slowly, Abigail pushes her skirts back and stands, lifting her eyes to his. Her expression remains stony. It might be termed wary, if wary was backed up by frustrated, annoyed and irate.

"Someone help you with that, then?" she asks quietly.

The first she believes he'd say, no doubt about it. The middle and the last? Not so much. The man is many things, most of them good, but astute is not one. If he hadn't figured out why she was upset by the time she threw the pork shoulder at him -- and he hadn't, judging by his bewildered surprise -- then no additional thinking was going to light that candle for him.