Adelaide arches a brow in response, meeting mischief with wry exasperation that is, somehow, tinted with a measure of fondness. How she could be so ready to trust yet again- she does not think about it.

She simply does.

"The Mire itself has an...odor that ranges from mildly unpleasant to excruciatingly putrid- something I found to help ease the discomfort was to keep a scarf with a sachet of dried herbs pressed near my nose and mouth." A beat. "I should say the same to you. Don't poke the bears."