Greta follows along agreeably, her free hand discovering the leaves in her hair and plucking them out. Just dropping them on the neatly manicured lawn seems a bit rude, but the only alternative is pocketing them, and that would be silly, so she lets them fall.

It's just a dream, after all. No one is actually tending this place.

"Oh!" she says, startled by the sudden sneeze. "Goodness. All right?" She gives Iman's back a gentle pat. It's not hay fever or something, is it? Can that even happen in dreams? Even if it could, she doubts that's the culprit; Iman's never had issues around flowering plants before.