Naiobe can't help but grin to herself. She doesn't reply right away, watching the uneasy shift and sway of brown skin. The moment is drawn out like taffy, slowly and deliberately, while Naiobe chooses to savor even this small power over the nature spirit. She could ignore the question, and continue doing something else... Though now that she thinks about it, she's not entirely certain that the dryad would play along and get more distressed. It could be that the dryad would simply give up and return to her tree.<br/><br/>And then Naiobe would have to punish her.<br/><br/>The silence stretches out, second after second, as Naiobe ends up giving the dryad only that toothy smile. Turning away, she takes up a pruning knife, bringing it to bear on a sickly, browning stalk of one flower.