Daine nods a bit dully. She knows there's no use fretting about it. They've handled plenty without her help in the past, and she can't offer them any, now. All she can do is trust that they'll manage without her (or without her her, this her, and she feels a sudden stab of envy for this other Daine, copy or not, who gets to go about living her proper life in her proper realm).

She pulls in a breath, though she isn't entirely sure what she ought to say. Sometimes, conversations in Manhattan feel like crossing a frozen-over river: trying to avoid thin ice, trying not to slip up. It's only natural, what with so many folk being from realms with no magic, or natives of Manhattan not necessarily looking kindly on rifties.

It feels far less natural now, with Alanna. Daine shouldn't have to watch herself around her friend.

It's almost a relief when the scenery abruptly shifts. The living room melts away, replaced by a rain-slicked city street. Manhattan, or near enough by Daine's reckoning. She lurches a little at the loss of the couch beneath her, but manages to right herself without sitting down on the wet pavement. Looking to the Lioness, she says, "This is what it's like, the new realm I'm in." There's a flash of headlights and a hiss of tires, and she hastily adds, "I should probably warn you about cars."