"I'll put rows of plastic ducks in their bedrooms," she suggests another idle threat, tipping her head back for a moment to consider the ceiling. There's nothing especially interesting up there, she's just not in the mood to be as still as she sometimes is; stillness is a defense mechanism from traps both metaphorical (pre-2006) and literal (post-2006), and Ilde's inclination to defiance doesn't stop at her own instincts. "Rows and rows and rows."