[ When she flubs the word - flubs it in a way that makes Camellia realize she'd known perfectly well how to say it - the Imaginier goes from intruiged to being quite certain that she already likes this girl. She has an air of someone who's long since settled on a character and a part in the story to play (by her own choice or someone else's) and decided she's going to play it perfectly, no matter what. It's only Camellia's age and experience in comparison that gives her a sense of the artifice and even then, she can't tell where the act truly ends and the real girl begins. She's thoroughly impressed.

Not that she plans to let on, of course. The smile on her face is a warmly indulgent one, like that of a fond teacher or caretaker. Utterly without malice or pretence. ]

I'm sure they could come up with some if we asked. It's such a hot day out, after all – it'll be just the thing you need to refresh yourself...

[ She trails off, making a show of realizing her mistake and then giggling before turning that effusive smile back to this mysterious, out of place girl. ]

But I'm getting a little bit ahead of myself. After all, we haven't even introduced ourselves. You can call me Camellia.