Take some more tea;

[ Elizabeth perches in the seat in front of her name card, swinging her legs back and forth to feel the grass brushing against her feet. She reaches across to fill up the teacup of her companion before refilling her own, piling pastel coloured macarons onto her plate. ]

I hope you're hungry, it looks like there's plenty.

[ Her eyes light up for a moment as she spots the riddle, but she sets the paper aside almost as soon as she picks it up. ]

A shadow. I wonder if there's a more challenging one.

[ She begins to pick up the crockery and look beneath the table cloth in the hope of finding another riddle to entertain her. ]


I am not myself, you see;

[ At first Elizabeth peers into the rooms in wonder, her delight evident as she stumbles upon a room with a little clay version of herself dancing and swinging Booker around on the beach at Battleship Bay, the scent of candy floss in the air and upbeat, tinny music from a phonograph. If her companion isn't careful, she'll pull them into a dance.

Her joy evaporates, though, as she steps into a room crammed full of diagrams, research notes and biological samples. Her shoulders hunch and she seems to shrink into herself a little. ]

...I have to get out of here.