She could have flown into town but she didn't, she rode in on her massive black mount, Thunder, who she was tying up at a post with a touch of hay and some water when she heard the question. Swinging down from Thunder, two swords strapped to her back, her eyes found Castiel's.

"Which one, now?" she asked quietly, trying to ignore something joyous humming through her as she blinked a few times and managed to look at the stall rather than at the man. That was new and not at all how she usually reacted to people in general. It was a sort of giddy rush, she noted, or a flutter of recognition. And it was affecting her motor skills just enough to be ridiculous as she picked up what looked like a swede or as the Americans would say, a rutabaga.

Her wings wanted to rustle out but she kept them back through sheer force of will.