[ There's a head tip from Benji. Out here. Her back is turned, though, as she attends to tea. Among her belongings are painted, earthenware mugs, and these she uses to pour small but not ungenerous helpings of tea that tastes like garden.

But the taste of garden might be nice, when you're a cave dweller like them. ]

I don't really think it's to everyone's taste. You see a lot of, mm. Bolder images. Abstractions instead of pictures.

[ She minces a few steps back, offering out a cup. A glance down notes the picture that Milagros has paused over, and there's a fond smile muffled out by a sip from her own cup. ]

What's your name?