She swallows a scream as he lands, unable to stop the involuntary flinch. Before she can stop herself, she barks a response at him as though she were still talking to Pritkin - like he was still somewhere in there. "Really? Could you get more cliché?"

She then bamfs herself three more times, to Japan, then a beach, and then New York City. The sidewalk is wet and cold against her feet, but she keeps her head down - stepping out of the alley and into the crowd, hoping he might lose her - doing her best to throw up some quick mental wards to block any magical traces she could be giving off. This could work. Right? Sure. She fucking hoped so, at least.