"Make it pecans and you've got yourself a deal," Dom replies, matching the conspiratorial tone. Then, she blinks, feeling as if she's startled herself. Is she flirting? Not Ana. Dom. Am I, Dom asks herself in a split second of social terror, flirting?

She legitimately has no idea, and tries to bury her awkwardness under a too-wide smile and a hand offered for a handshake. "I'm Dom, by the way."