The summer heat makes dressing as formally as Saint-Germain tends to quite an annoyance. Even without her coat, her shirt is designed with cold weather in mind far more than the sun, and so sheās decided she needs to suck it up and try and find something a bit lighter. With all these stalls out and about, sheās bound to find one actually selling human clothing at some point, isnāt she?
This is definitely a battle sheāll lose.
As she wanders (a little aimless, all things considered) through the stalls, she doesnāt take much time to look at these odd trinkets. For the most part, thereās nothing interesting--the human clothing sheās seen certainly isnāt fitting for her tastes. As she starts to give up hope, though, she glances around again, and spots someone she actually recognizes--though the feeling that washes over her after isnāt a particularly positive one. A large bug--though now, she supposes, sheās far larger than he is--is staring at some of the masks hanging in one of the stalls, tapping his foot. The shame of being known as a child--the horrible dread that threatened to drag her into an even deeper despair than she was already dealing with--it was a lot, really. That strangers had seen her in that state--she didnāt care that they had been kind, because that kindness was something she couldnāt abide by. What can she do, run away?
Itās not like sheās too recognizable from appearance alone, anyway.
Normally, she would just briskly walk off, ignoring the feelings brewing within her. But as the bug continues to stare, she wonders--does he not have the money...? And after he had shared a meal with her, it would only be fair to repay that kindness, one way or another, even if he didnāt know why he was being given it. So she steps forward, and looks down at him, clearing her throat. āAre you looking to purchase one of these masks? I have quite a bit of spare cash, if youāre low on that.ā