She takes them, taps them absently against her thigh - gazing in the direction of what she can't make out without lifting them up, thoughtful, a bit unkind. Maybe there is music. Silence can be very penerating even with it, which is not really an objection when it occurs to her so much as oddly satisfying. It's tempting to make something up, to imagine a more interesting story than is probably the truth - but it's probably easier just to find one somewhere.

"Can't you? I always could. Children are very adaptable." This is an idle repetition of common wisdom more than Ilde being some expert on what children are or do, but probably true enough. You can get used to most things, when you're small enough someone else and their schedule dictates what's your normal.

"People are strangest in motion. Traveling. Everything magnified. Out of the ordinary, where they have to decide things."