"Kiosk?" [The word fits ill in her mouth, like an angular candy of startling flavor. Rosamund's lips purse, a quaint dip between her brows soon follows.] So it's definitely an enchantment.

[Or an in-between place. There's no new recollection of a bloody demise on her part and her clothes are consistently tattered. Still, the idea of being mystically turned back the way you came reminds her of offering Cinderella tea and opening a door to nothing.

Or there was the cut and paste of one fragment of a story into another. Perhaps this city has been cut out of some larger country, and they're all being plucked and placed here for safekeeping.

Both are highly possible. Neither are safe to share. Unless this man is twice or thrice upon a time himself, it's not fair for Rosamund to puncture his perception of reality.]

In that case...I might like to see the kiosk? But if there's a library, or a book shop, that could be helpful as well.

[Rosamund pauses.]

Aren't you going to eat that?

[Please give her peace of mind so she can have some damn chocolate already.]