"Some things are different here," she starts with a nod, absent-mindedly breaking the bread down even further, "but I have my magic, so my methods are the same. I am starting to learn the French Horn; that's different, but I'd never studied music back home. I painted, but I haven't done much of that here yet. I also used to write and help my father edit his magazine. I was thinking of starting one for the newcomers in this city, actually."

She looks down at her hands, as though suddenly aware of the presence of the bread again. Instead of throwing it to the ground in the usual manner, she squats down, her knees bent, and her arm and open palm out-stretched.

Her head cocks to the side slightly, and her eyes widen as he stares up at the man, as though saying 'watch this'.