Isabelle was currently struggling with two major problems.

The first was that she wasn't sure where to put her hands. When Solarel had landed on her, they'd been splayed to the side to try to break her fall. And this resulted in about twenty seconds of uncertain gestures before she'd settled on returning them to her sides. All the while her face was getting redder and redder, rapidly approaching the point she figured she'd catch fire.

[i]Here lies Isabelle. Killed by spontaneous gay combustion.[/i]

At least it would be a unique epitaph.

Fortunately, The first problem soon resolved itself when Solarel finally got off her. However this soon presented the second issue, namely that she didn't speak Mandarin. It wasn't exactly a Lingua Franca in the TC, so she was reduced to simply staring in confusion at whatever noises were coming out of this Zaldarian and its weird holographic spirit thing.

"Uhh ... they're genuine Berkshires, if that's what you're asking?" she says, still not sure what is going on.

In what was perhaps a mistake, she offered her foot to the Zaldarian so that she could get a better look.

Maybe at some point she'd recognise the hand language, but that point was about fifteen minutes and a good deal of calming down away.