[Rosalind makes a low sound in her throat and her pen comes down on the wall again as she strikes the line through. She's not usually so sloppy, but is she rather distressed today. One cannot always be en point, after all. She gives the woman a nod of thanks and then recalculates the row in swift (perhaps less than before), crisp numbers and notations.]

A keen eye, you have my thanks. It would have been troublesome if I had finished out the equation with an error so early on.

[It may not seem it, but this is a staggeringly expression of gratitude. She's being borderline obsequious.]

I am attempting to calculate the angle at which the walls of this shop actually intersect with the ship around it. If I can, and assuming it is either a fixed hyperbolic angle or advancing at a predictable rate of progression, I can determine a reasonably accurate volume for this space.

[She glances back idly.]

For fun.