She's not used to this. To any of this. Not how damn clean everything looks. Not how colourful. Or the, the water.

Or the clothes. She stands out. She knows she does. She always has - tall, beautiful, golden-haired - but she's just wearing the shift she escaped in. Her belly is jutting out. There's blood running down her leg, the bandage soaked through.

But Angharad knows how to work it. Even limping. Which she does, limps over to the older man, chin up and blue eyes intense.

"Do you know how to use this?" she asks, holding up the device.