"Hmmm, maybe it's Amortentia," Mary Grace suggests, and she bumps her shoulder against Chanel's when she leans in to smell the potion. Not that she can smell anything significant. The scent... particles... are probably frozen, too.

"Or a sleeping potion and he's being melodramatic." Mary Grace sighs and turns, leaning against the table. She's still got Mr. Berzelius' wallet in her hand and she flips it open and closed idly as she talks. "You're gonna fall and twist your ankle in those things, ya know. There's monsters out here."