"Yeah, of course. Let me think." He picks up a balloon, hefting it in his hand, and considers his options. He doesn't want to express anger that's visitor-related, because that's the thing Sunny is sensitive about. "I'm mad that... Drosera bit a hole in my favorite shoe last night." He lobs the balloon against the climbing wall at the edge of the playground, where it bursts satisfyingly against a hand-grip.