Flandre's eyes, if it was really possible, went wide at the sight of Marisa--and she run out from under the safe cover of the parasol to slam into the witch with the sort of high-speed hug only a vampire or a tengu had any right pulling off from a standing start. The instant the girl left the shade, her skin started to sizzle; smoke visibly rose in the few brief seconds before the fairy managed to catch up and restore the safety so that the blonde could heal the damage.

It was, all in all, a very eye-opening experience regarding starting a fight with the little girl at night: she could move fast, hit like a train, and damage disappeared as quickly as it formed. Not that Marisa was at all likely to be picking a fight...

"Marisa! You're not wearing very much. Are you getting ready to have a bath? Remilia says I should take baths more often, but I don't go out enough to get dirty, and Sakuya keeps everything clean. She used to mention showers a lot in the outside world, and how they would be good if they weren't dangerous, but I don't know why should stopped talking about the weather since we got to Gensokyo..."

Darjeeling looked relieved that the girl seemed to be unbothered by the damage, though maybe it was relief that Flandre's babbling had been directed at someone else? Even halfway around the lake was quite a long walk, and with nobody else to bother any conversation would have been directed in her direction.

----

There was a sort of mumbling sound, words that could be vaguely resolved into 'but I've already finished school' and very little other response from the slumbering green-haired girl for a few seconds. Then, on cue, she sat upright and pointed dramatically towards the nun, struggling for words before finally finding the only truly appropriate phrasing that could come to mind: "There's a cute girl in my room!"

Then, several seconds later, Sanae realised that this wasn't her room, and amended it to, "There's a cute girl here!"

After a pregnant pause--assuming, of course, that Maria was equally stunned, or at least spluttering incoherently rather than saying something--the priestess managed to think of something conversational to say despite the pounding in her head, "Cotton pyjamas are comfy..."