All tzimisce appreciate manners, it's one of their little quirks — or rather, all the ones who count, in Nuray's opinion. She smiles. "Of course." She busies herself fetching that, wondering idly, as she does, what it all tastes like — she'll never know, not really — and glancing curiously at Ilde on occasion. Her scent is — off. Not a bad off, just different. Hm.

"You're up early. Or is it late?" It's that hour where it could be either, although people who wake up at 4 AM don't tend to be so well-dressed.