She'd taken a deep sip of the pickle juice. That had been a mistake, with a disgusted noise the jar was forcefully removed from near her face- meaning it shattered on the nearby ground, the aisle now beautifully decorated with pickle carnage. Smelly pickle carnage, even to non-enhanced senses of smell. Laura held her elbow up to her nose, using the sleeve of her shirt to protect her as she stumbled backwards towards the woman.

The bottom half of her face may still be covered, but her eyebrows are still visible as they narrow in confusion at the question. What concern was it of hers?