[ Well, now Vanessa at least has the decency to feel some shame over the state of the poor girl's skirt. Given that Vanessa's own fashion is nothing like that she has found here, she suspects this girl may have an even more difficult time finding outfits that are right for her.

Any time her gaze casts over the wings peeking from behind the girl, Vanessa can feel a lump in the back of her throat. An angel couldn't truly be here, so then what is she? Whatever it is, she must restrain the desire to weep in the child's presence. One would have trouble understanding that if they saw her from a distance, for the most she offers on the surface is an apologetic, if sheepish smile when the girl nods.

She had been jesting about the poison, but she sees now how suspicious it may have sounded. Vanessa has been told that she can have a certain...presentation toward people, as well as a light step. ]

Your skirt. My apologies. I feel I ought to offer to clean it, now.

[ Though, she understands a girl with an aptitude for wariness (smart) may not wish to follow a stranger home, and Vanessa has yet to discover the dry cleaners. ]

Although there may be some fashion here you would enjoy. It wouldn't be difficult to alter them for—

[ The barest stutter — a lump in her throat, oh she wants to cry. ]

For your wings.