Franziska launches herself from her seat at those magic words, fixing Miles with a withering stare that would be appropriate on the face of a cat that's been locked outdoors all day. Offended that he even asked.

Straightening her posture and running a hand over her riding crop, she says, "Of course I am. Where do you want to eat?" The question is mostly a formality. Franziska is not afraid to shoot down suggestions that she doesn't like.