"Mm," Greta hums in agreement, the tone hovering on the edge of disapproval. Most of the Rift's contributions to her dreams haven't been that wonderful - well, except for Angus, she supposes - but as offenses go, 'random sneezing' isn't that severe. If that's the worst this dream has to offer, she can't complain.

Especially with a setting this lovely. Now that she's no longer afraid of being caught out, she allows herself to really look around the garden with an appreciative eye, and listen to the volleys of birdsong being traded back and forth. It's a garden worthy of a Queen, and she and Iman get free rein over it. That's worth an inexplicable sneeze or two.

"Let's explore," she says with a grin, reclaiming Iman's hand. "I never imagined I'd--tschoo!" She blinks into the crook of her own elbow, then slowly lifts her head. "Um. Pardon me." That came on awfully sudden. She sniffs, then tries again. "I was just saying, I'd n--" she feels it this time, a tell-tale ache in her sinuses, and she pauses, waiting for the sensation to pass, before hazarding, "never..."

It's back. Greta falls silent, lips pressed together in consternation as the feeling fades.