[ The awkwardness remains, even weeks later. Whenever she meets someone she knows from their false time together. When she's aware of things about them they wouldn't have otherwise shared. When they're aware of her. It leaves the back of her neck prickling uncomfortably, that unmoored sense of what was real? spinning her thoughts out of reach into barely-remembered dream worlds.

At least Cid isn't a complete stranger. She knew him-- knows him, in the real and waking world. So when he insists, she agrees to meet, and if he decides to pick up the tab, she won't argue. Nor will she hold back on the drink orders.

His questions don't surprise her, though they might... complicate matters. Ciri sets her tankard down, keeping the cup between her palms to grip. ]

You're right. I have no obligation to answer.

[ Which is answer enough on its own. Ciri's green eyes remain leveled on his, while she considers how much to say. ]

The things we experienced weren't real. Those circumstances aren't real.

I may as well ask how much of you is a giant horse-man.