[ her heart feels like it might leap into her throat and out of her mouth, panic dissipating only to return. she's gathered what she can from eavesdropping (as well as one can under duress) — a spaceship, reunions and talk of mutiny — but it's the promise of seclusion in the gardens that she hones in on for now.

she needs to change, to run, and the longer she lingers, the more stressed she becomes. losing control due to trepidation isn't an option — not here, not now, not in front of humans, and she pads barefoot as quickly as she can through the halls, shoes in hand.

but arriving there without a distraction doesn't seem to be in the cards when elijah approaches, seemingly far more composed than she could ever feel in this situation. she makes an attempt to swallow her stress and weariness, pressing her back against the nearest wall to ground herself as she shifts her head to watch him.

the attempt at small, polite smile isn't a very good one, but she tried. ]

You have the wrong woman, sorry. I'm just as newly misplaced as you are.

[ she pauses, eyeing him for just a brief moment before her tone turns to vague, wry amusement. ]

I can try to help, but don't hold it against me if I disappoint you.