She keeps up, and doesn't particularly seem like she's working hard to.

"Oh. I see."

She does, too. That attitude requires confidence, intelligence, and enough security in his station in life that offending people doesn't really factor in. Her mind supplies rich, connected, talented as reasons, and arrogance. It could be misplaced, but it might not, too.

Not that Annie says any of that. She just thinks it, and uses their journey to give herself time to settle. Try to settle. The staff in her hand helps, giving as it does something else for her to focus on (the weight of it, the feel of the wood against her skin, and the security of a weapon even though she knows she's probably never going to use it as such). She might be walking at a brisk pace, but she makes sure she takes enough air in, enough air out.

It helps. A little. She still feels like her nerves are scratching at the underside of her skin, but the skittishness has died down to a low simmer.

"We do. Got a few kinds, actually. Depends which district you're from. Balls are a bit fancy, though. If that's where 'ballroom' is from."

It might not be. Language, she's finding, does some funny things.