The presence of the bridge is enough to make her dizzy, never mind actually standing upon it. Most less-than-real additions tend to do so, an irritation or a flaw, but with the man she is looking for seated so precariously upon it, she isn't going to risk redesigning the world to suit her comfort, and she tries not to do so anyway unless it is a necessity. Benji does not have to shuffle the span of it, at least; she simply is closer than she was before, and it's definitely more the power of belief than the fur and wool she's dressed in that saves her from the killing cold.

She thinks that this might not be such a bad place to go, sometimes. Freezing preservation for the soul, with the cold oppressive enough to sear icy into your lungs at each inhale, and stop you from feeling much of anything else. She can't guess as to the motivations of others, though.

Rather than approach him directly, Benji arrives at the edge at some distance away, settling to kneel and place bare hands against the ice edge. She leans, just a little, to peer down at the snowy natural waste below, almost precarious, and brave by some standards. "This place," she says, her voice sounding thin in the already thin air, "it's amazing." In a moment, she'll recognise him too, but the dreamed up representation of his profile is not yet studied too closely. There's a lot to look at.