Emilia murmurs a quiet thank you as she walks past him and into their strange — thankfully temporary — abode. She beelines to the kitchen with her woven basket, presuming Wrathion will follow with the fish.

Her amusement is understated as she turns to him, setting the basket on the counter. She tries not to be too obvious in the way she cares after him these days, in what ways she can and he will allow of her.

She can't quite tell how he's doing since the train.

"I take it you don't particularly care for fish?"