"Hm, not the masks, then? It's supposed to glow gold, right?" Winter's assuming based on what she's seen other students stumble out of closing memories with, like that bizarre golden vape Presley had.

She squints at the frozen Aris with that same faint smile, observing, offhandedly, "Your hair looked very nice that day."

It had seemed to her that the point of their not-quite-mystery girl's attention would be the linchpin, but perhaps that was assuming too much. Just in case, Winter reaches down to pluck one of those freshly grown crocuses.