Yeah, like a... Like it's made of mist, or smoke, or something. [Rise won't hear it, but Sulla's dove makes a little chirping noise; she wonders if it's happy to be acknowledged.]

[Either way, she scoots back a little, giving Rise and herself both some personal space after catching her.] I just thought, since you were looking at, or seeing something, that... I-I'm sorry! It's really none of my business, is it? [A nervous little laugh as Sulla scratches her own arm, as though there's an itch there. (There isn't; it's just a nervous habit.)]