[ Rosaria's eyes widen slightly, impressed by the plant before her already. Good to know. She's not going to hazard trying to pluck one out, but if someone pisses her off enough, she wouldn't be opposed to leading them out this way and letting nature run its course.

What's left of the stick is chucked away as she straightens to her full height. ]

I imagine this area is your haunt then. Never knew crows had an affinity for pretty flowers. I usually catch your kind picking at wastes or sitting on fences. What's your name?

[ She's not sure if she'll remember this moment as a fever dream later or not, and while she's not angling to make friends, the crow is at least proving itself to be a decent guide. That's more than she can say about the humans around the city. ]