[That slices into some of her momentum. Standing there the other side of his desk (for if there is a chair opposite, she'd never gotten as far as sitting in it), Wysteria visibly pauses. She drops her attention to the wrinkled pamphlets laid on his desk as if there might be some ready answer already written there.]

Oh, I suppose it will need one. [How irritating—to have considered the idea so thoroughly and still be caught off guard by something so obvious.] I don't know. Call it something dreadful and ridiculous like The Hangman's Papers. If you have any suggestion, I'd hear it.