Setsuna's eyes take it in, wide and delighted. "Wow. It -" she catches herself before she continues, and her expression shutters, some of the happiness flickering as she hesitates, suddenly deeply unprepared to continue this conversation. She wants to feel like she can talk about this - who, after all, is it going to hurt? Who indeed, except herself, perhaps, somewhere down the line, for failing to consider her situation properly? - but the ways this could all go wrong if she steps wrong are terribly vertiginous and profligate.

When she gets her voice back she's quieter, more somber, the wariness of paranoia heavy in the set of her shoulders, and a sad cast to her eyes. "All those squat square buildings, like little chips soldered onto each other and the circuitboard of the city itself ... it's just ... a little familiar. We don't have anything like that hanging over our city, though ... not anymore."