It was a reflexive instinct that had her catching something flying at her from the corner of her eye as opposed to skill or intent. "Hey," she said, turning with a small furrow in her brow. The furrow grew when she looked down at the orange bead in her hand. "Um, no offense, but... no. I'm just getting the hang of having to deal with one at a time. I'm not a freakin' seven-eleven."