Molotov opens her mouth, then closes it again without speaking -- she supposes she's heard of weirder things than leprechauns. Hell, she's killed weirder things than leprechauns. Manacondas are probably less annoying, though, even pregnant ones.

"I meant children. I guess I wasn't stereotyping you hard enough." There's something softer in her eye on him now, like maybe she thinks he's a little funny, or maybe it's just that she thinks he isn't enough of a threat to hate. Either way, she's lost all the conniving meanness she had when she was talking about the Capitolites, possibly just because she doesn't have any hate for Tom in the way she has hate for them.

Her cheek resting in her hand, propped on the arm of the chair, she takes another sip from her bottle. "We have time. Tell me about your kid."