Blue's eyes narrow at his counter question and she tilts her head to consider him. This is not, generally, how conversations go. At home, everyone is ready to argue any particular point -- sometimes for the hell of it -- or they have an answer ready to go. At school-- Well things quickly get heated at school. This sort of quiet surrender is new. She's not sure she likes it, but she's not sure she dislikes it either.

Up above them, a rush of leaves and sharp flutter of wings herald the crescendo of the territorial squabble. The ensuing silence an obvious victory. Blue sucks her lower lip in between her teeth and chews on it while she thinks. She turns the sharpie over in her fingers in a complicated little eight pattern.

"The one that's true," she says finally, having weighed the possibilities against the principle and philosophy of the thing. Obviously making threats isn't very nice, but if that's what he's doing, she'd rather know that. The truth is important, you see.

It's probably not the answer Jack expected or wanted. Maybe it's the look on his face or her name on his cast or Blue's natural sense of curiosity, but she shoves the sharpie back into the pocket from where she got it and retreats to the beech tree.

"You can pick any side you want except this one," she tells him over her shoulder, touching a hand against the smooth bark of the tree. "This one is mine. If you don't bother me, I won't bother you."