She's only vaguely familiar with the sight of computers, having seen various displays for word processors in store windows in her few meanderings around the city. She can't help wandering near, at least glad that the keys appear in a familiar patter. She's adept with a typewriter and that much is the same, though that fact alone further amuses her today. After that brief wander she makes her way back to take a seat, neatly draping her coat over an arm of a chair and sits to wait for his return. In his presence there's less effort to hide the more prim nature of her era in the way she sits, but there's a little more aloofness there that might hint at her still relaxing.