"Oh, well..." Cherie's eyes glittered at the thought, all memory of what they had been doing out on the veranda (or talking to the Shark) in the first place simply vanishing, as unimportant (and sometimes important) things were wont to do. "Let's see..."
"I'd rather be at home, at school, at Brax's, at Redly's, at Gracie's, at Florry's forge, at the lake, ooh, at a bakery!, in the woods, or in a meadow, or, um, in the stables, even though I'm not really a good rider, or, um..."
As she spoke, her eyes rolled up towards the ceiling, and she ticked the items off on her finger. As the ideas slowed down, her face twisted into a series of childishly thoughtful expressions, and, unconsciously, she pinched her fingertip and wiggled the finger lightly.
If Brax didn't stop her, this was liable to go on all night.