Just like that — an answer without the need to say a word, and Effy smiles with all the familiarity of looking into a slightly distorted mirror. Her eyes trail down to the skillful grip of Hild's feet, observing the way her toes brace against the bark. Effy does her best to mimic the skill as she scales the tree, relying on callouses that have thickened over time and too many pairs of stilettos.

It doesn't take her too long to find an adjacent branch, fingers resting gently on the bough.

"Seems like we were both in the city before, then, even if we didn't cross paths," Effy says quietly, her gaze dropping. A greater romantic might spin the moment into something bigger — an opportunity to meet someone she'd unfortunately missed before. But truth is, trying to assign some greater meaning into why and how she's returned is one of the few things Effy fears in the city. Finding a reason means there might be something she could do that would make them take it back.

Counting on chance to be cruel is a safer bet, in its way.

"And I can't say that I know anyone else who's been here a second time and remembers what they lived, either," she adds, looking up again. "But this city practically lives to take us all by surprise, doesn't it?"