She's still a little dazed. It's still a lot to take in and absorb - especially in so short an amount of time.

A few things help with this: The normalcy of shops and restaurants, where the kedan call out and interact with one another much like they do at home. Conan's presence, familiar and as always, strangely reassuring despite his age. The tea (which she's dazed enough to let him make for himself without interfering), which has its own familiarity and is something warm to hold in her hands as he talks.

Her eyes shift over the apartment as she listens, taking it in.

"You've really been here eight months?" she says softly as he finishes. She can't say she likes that idea. He's so independent - always has been - but that doesn't mean he isn't still a child. Or that he doesn't have the tendency to get in over his head.

There's guilt in that knowledge too somehow, as though somehow she could have done something to prevent it (though it's illogical and she knows it).