Harriet can sense the other girl before she hears her, hear her before she sees her, and she takes no particular care to remain silent. Rounding the corner of the line of food stands, she hails the stranger whose cooking efforts are already starting to smell delicious. Harriet's uncomfortably reminded that she fought an alien menace in low Earth orbit after lunch and hasn't had so much as a sip of water since.

"Hi," she hails the brown girl. "Arcade Fire? You from my part of reality?"