Largely oblivious to any danger of things being thrown at her, no matter their intention, Benji moves with the pace of someone without anywhere to be with urgency. In truth, she likes this part of Baedal, with the graffiti, the young students and older academics, the general sense of valued education and community. In truth, it gives her a jealous sense of wist; she would like to be smart at something, and know theories, and construct essays. She is also twenty-seven, and not particularly wealthy, but on the plus side, rather used to dreaming.

She is in suede and denim and cotton, wardrobe as muted and ordinary as ever. A brown leather messenger bag bumps against her hip, and she is more or less a million miles away by the time Xas suddenly appears at her side, windswept and interesting. Benji starts, dignity not depicted here, and lets out a huff of a laugh.

"Hello," she replies, slowing without stopping. "Not really. Returning some books. Where did you come from?"