Her eyes narrow on him. For a moment, the line of her mouth slants toward a frown. It's a calculating examination, a thing made up of measuring and weighing until at last she realizes he is being quite serious. Genuine, even.

Wysteria scoffs. Or laughs. Her Ha! falls somewhere between the two.

"Forgive me," she says. Not for laughing, not for finding the suggestion ridiculous. She wouldn't apologize for something so small as that. "But if that's all, then I remain unconvinced. I truly do regret it if I'm the first one to say so to you, Mister Dickerson, but I'm afraid life has a certain way of being unfair. And I hardly think we should expect a bad dream to conduct itself better than reality."