By this point Martha had found a suitable red maxi in light fabric (not quite chiffon, probably futuristic) and had put it on, along with a wrap, and was digging about for footwear. "To feed upon your faith?" she echoed, poking her head up before finally settling on some not-very-stylish-but-comfy Birkenstocks.

She was about to rummage some more, maybe ask if she could take some away to the hotel (asking him to take her home seemed wrong, like crossing the streams), when she detected the very familiar change in tone. Heading back down towards him, she said, not unkindly, "Well...I hope you don't want me to lie to you, Doctor."