[ Ciri senses the pause, the tension. A beat of awkward silence, peppered with the rustling of butcher paper and cloth. ]

...sorry. [ She sighs. If Hilda will allow, she will reach out to help too, pulling more items from the basket or simply rearranging things to make more room. ]

It's just been a bit... confusing. We weren't ourselves, but we also were. I can't remember everything. [ Thank fuck. ] But I remember enough.

I remember you. A version of you.

[ Ciri waits for Hilda to volunteer anything of her own, anything she remembers too. Or to shut this whole thing down. ]