The moss on Audrey's arm and shoulder is flaking off, but she doesn't want to brush it away. The feeling of things growing on her has become something comforting. Safe. The cicada brooch stays clutched in her hand, still, even after the battle's been won. The war's been won. Lichen grows and fades, and she's sure one day it'll stop altogether. But for now.

She's absolutely just wandering around, but she sees someone familiar. Who might understand the comfort of some moss. And. "Oh. A friend."

She's not sure she's been introduced to this one. She sinks beside Eddy without invitation to say hi to his mouse.