She cleans her plate with her fingers, licking what's left of the taste from them-- and pauses when he asks. Her opinion as far as the direction and momentum of their trip tends to be second fiddle at best; the fact that he'd want it is enough to make her set back on her heels a bit and glance around as if scanning the immediate area might provide her with some kind of obvious, telling right answer.

"Move on, I guess. No use just sitting around here, right?" Besides, what would she even do with the rest of the day? There's a couple of books in the house, but not enough time to finish any of them she doesn't think. And she can't imagine if they stayed it would exactly be a day of leisure anyway.