"What a shocking question," has just the faintest tint of playful faux-scandalized color to it as Fitcher folds her idle hands over her middle and allows her eyes to slide mostly shut against the sun.

Honestly. What kind of scoundrel asks such a thing of a respectable person such as herself?

(Yes, she supposes he might send Thot out. The idea of being certain enough to happily pack up and move directly on to the next little village en route, where they might come by a lukewarm bath and a bed or two, is tempting indeed.)

"Do we consider rooftops outdoors?"