Greta takes Iman's arm, this time, and gives it a bracing pat as they start off. It feels less like an easy walk through a garden and more like a walk down the streets of Manhattan, united against the possibility of trouble. Even if 'trouble' only exists in the form of inexplicable sneezing fits.

After a minute of silent meandering unbroken by any such fits, though, Greta cautiously relaxes a little. "It's beautiful here," she says. It comes out easily, no tell-tale itching, and she breathes out a little more tension. Maybe it was just some... freak spell, or something. She looks over at Iman and smiles. "Does your universe have anything like this?" Honestly, she wouldn't put anything past a universe that had produced Iman, but she also sort of assumes it's all sleek and extra-new-looking, a step or two above Manhattan.