What's the hurry, indeed. There must be a fragrance or pollen hanging about this garden that takes all worldly concerns out of mind. How else could there be two people in such a place with no vested interest for being in another place entirely?

Having halted her aimless meanderings for the moment, Blue looks on at the person she's discovered, like one might observe a cat sitting in the sun. The prophets would advise her to let sleeping felines lie, but he doesn't appear to be asleep and she was never good at taking advice anyway. If she were more honest (with herself, with others) then she would also have to admit that she's feeling unsettled still. No connection, not to a singular or a collective or anything remotely familiar. A dandelion seed cast out into the wind. The edges of that disconnection gnaw at her mind like a hungry caterpillar devouring a leaf, and she smiles brightly at having found a sacrifice to offer it instead.

"Have you found a nice spot?" she asks. If he looks her way, he'll find a fair skinned woman with dark eyes and short-cropped black hair covered by a flat cap. Her black doublet and white shirt and hose are a stark contrast to the vivid greenery around them, and she idles at the edge of his sunny spot like a specter awaiting permission to cross the threshold.