Rose's lips slowly press together as she takes him in. His stance and body language are telling in a way: there's a stiffness, a wariness, an apprehension. Her own shoulders sit tense under the heavy fall of the robe.

"You look older than just that," she says as her tone settles into something more measured. "You'll have to pardon me for not being as hip and stylish as you. They didn't give me a choice of costume; it was either this or the pajamas." The purple ones, Derse ones, emblazoned with a moon.

She swallows tightly.

"Dave, what happened? We were--" How does she even say it? "I didn't expect to... be anywhere, much less a decaying fantasy village."