Rose looks no more pleased than him for the one bat harmed; it was less an intentional strike than a consequence of all the flailing and flapping together. It's with a sigh, resigned, that she floats on over the rest of the way to sit against the rafter. She swaps the needle to the other hand, then gives his a shake.

"Thirteen," she answers. "And I'll have to agree with you. It's one thing to fight monsters made for the very purpose, and another to be suddenly mobbed by normal animals."

Finally she reaches into her sleeve to produce the yarn. "Here. I'm still reluctant to hand over the knitting needles, though--if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to keep them so that I'll have something for defense. A pair of sticks might work as wands if I tried well at it, but they wouldn't be as sturdy, and I know how to use these without incurring the ire of our captors."

And as a sign of good will, she turns them to hold out handle-first. She won't fight him on it if he insists on taking them back, though she doesn't keep the hope from her face.

"Since I should probably introduce myself after all this mess, my name is Rose Lalonde."