"I could use help with my phone," Greta admits, obliviously, as she uncurls herself from around Iman. No more moping. But she's in no particular hurry to get up, either, so she shifts to sit more alongside Iman, leaning against her and tucking a companionable arm through hers. "Speaking of things that might as well be magic." And it's so little, and delicate; honestly, she'd be much more willing to mess around with it if it wasn't so breakable.

"What about your world?" she asks, turning to look at her. "Is it very different?" Iman seems to have adjusted well, but that could just be due to time.