Rosalind blinks in an attempt to banish the sound that's ringing in her head. It's not an effective method but it is, for some reason, the natural reflex to such a malady. A few steps has her back over to Mr. Pleasant's side and she takes the notated napkin with a nod of thanks.

She gives it a glance, reading the list of weapons, but makes no comment. Beggars and their inability to be choosers, and all that.

"No, but it might be wise," she replies and, as she's folded the square, begins bleeding from her right nostril. It is more blood than she would have predicted, given the short duration of the separation and, she frowns as she fishes around for her own handkerchief.

"Actually, yes, sitting will be necessary."