[ The girl's hand is small in hers, smaller than she expected, but perhaps that shouldn't be a surprise given how small and delicate she looks. How she was made to look – perhaps it's a bit too soon to be making judgements but something about her whimsical, faelike appearance combined with that uncomfortable feeling of a stich come loose, of that question – "Is this Hell?" – asked without any indication of pretence or playfulness... it has Camellia feeling uneasy. Not that she'll let it show, of course, as she starts leading the girl away from the bustle of the market square. ]

Let's find ourselves somewhere to sit out of the sun – I'm sure you could do with something cold to drink as well. [ A pause as she hums in thought. ] Do you like sweets? There's a cafe I'm quite fond of that you might like.