[ Trahearne is going through the wringer, here, and Aerith's just tromping all the long way, cutting through the path like she knows the way already. She does, sort of, because she's used to walking and walking— you gotta get somewhere, all the time, when you live in the slums, after all.

With a little hum of confusion, she looks back at him, still walking, just in time to catch him point at her pinafore. He must mean her make-shift pockets. She nods, chipper and pleased, chestnut bangs bouncing. ]

Mmhm. Gotta figure out these guys. If we happen to run into Eustace on the way... you'll just have to be my witness, then.

[ No one is ever going to believe half the things she says about that guy.

So, she hums. She hums a happy little tune, like a bird chirping out it's little song, and leads the whole way. Onto the next journey, whatever it may be.]