[The question is quick to snap her out of her moment here. She blinks a few times but the weight of what that must mean settles over her in an instant.]

Of course.

[She pauses a moment, looking back to the kids around her and then carefully takes the bag off of her back to set aside.]

Careful, there's something sharp in there so don't play with it.

[That said she settles more into the war relief worker she is. She leans down, still short enough despite her new form to be able to gently touch the head of the child clinging onto her leg. It's somehow a surprise that he doesn't flinch and she wonders what that says about her own world. He can't be much older than Arren -- six, seven maybe?

He looks well. He's not skinny and no more dirty than a child would likely be after rough play. She casts her gaze quietly around the area, noting the rest of the children look much the same. Her expression is quietly serious like she's running this all through her mind for a moment.]

I've seen groups like this before. There are probably a few older children watching them -- teenagers maybe, if not younger.

[They must have stumbled on a group of the smaller children who couldn't work.]