Cyra eyes the bee critically. "You are small," she observes; this is what passes for tact for her, since she doesn't audibly add, "So I don't have much faith in what you can do to girls." Instead, she gravely accepts the honey, holding it but not drinking it as she tries to remember if bee-girls have shrink honey. Instead, feeling her way around the borders of unfamiliar diplomacy, she adds, "It would be better to meet your queen to discuss such things." After all, perhaps the queen would make a bigger mouthful.