Salem.... that ridiculous cowboy person? Ewa wondered. Why would Al look after him? Although she kept the thoughts to herself, she did look at him in askance.
She wasn't quite sure what to make of his expressions while she spoke seriously. He looked thoughtful and concerned, maybe even a little confused. It didn't fit in with his character deciding she was paranoid--no wariness or sudden reevaluation--but neither did it really make sense for someone who understood what she was getting at to react that way. Surely, if he's been here long enough, he'd know about it? If he was some kind of spy though, he should be more interested in possible escape plans.
Ewa laughed as Al fell over partway through his cartwheel. "I certainly hope they wouldn't consider you a champion now," she teased. "Let's see about this..." She shifted her stance sideways, feet firmly planted more than shoulder-width apart, arms lifted out on either side as she rocked back and forth. Exactly like a child, she thought with an inward smirk. A moment later she launched herself into a sloppy cartwheel, her following leg dragging a bit and throwing her off. Still, she managed not to fall over.
She lifted her head and arms as though proudly accepting a roar of accolades, then she smirked a bit and turned two smooth cartwheels over to Al, where she promptly folded into a seated position on the ground. "You sure it's the body and not the tux? I know there are people who will tell you that coordination has nothing to do with your clothing, but have you ever seen a man in a tux cartwheel? I bet it's the paradox holding you back."
Mostly, Ewa was just teasing him, but she was also curious if he'd expend the energy to change his whole outfit, just for show, similar to what he had done earlier.
