It definitely takes her a moment to soak that in, but then she stands rigid and rapt to attention, grinning wildly.

"Disco's your game, and Charthur's my name, and master of music's my singular claim! You've started a flame, and I'm ready to maim, so you'd better prepare to start doing the same!"

It's not quite a war, it's not quite a poetry reading. But it's definitely got her jazzed up.

"Octopi, octopi, sadly destined for the fry--lovers of song (and sizable dong), is there really so much between them and I? I'd give being one of them a try, but I've got to be honest, I'd rather not die. What say you to that, orange-pants-wearing-guy?"

Holy heck she just said "orange" while rhyming. Clearly this man is dealing with a true master of her craft.