Greta takes the hijab and folds it with care. She's not sure if there's any specific way one is supposed to handle a hijab, but she's mindful of the garment's significance and not about to treat it poorly. As Iman starts to speak, she sets the folded scarf atop her dresser, where it will be safe from spills or crumbs or accidentally being sat upon. Then she returns to the kitchen, a frown clouding her expression as she absently opens the bottles.

So, that explains the looks they were getting. All because of a scarf. And it's not as if Iman is the only woman in the city wearing one. Greta's seen plenty of other people wearing hijabs or similar head coverings and concluded it was normal - or normal enough, in a city like this one. Do all of them get nasty looks from passers-by? What utter rubbish - as if the world is so short of real problems that new ones need to be created.

Ones based on religion, no less. It does exist in her universe, and stories about God are generally regarded as no more or less plausible than stories about fairies, the main difference being that fairies - to the village Priest's consternation - tend to make their presence felt in ways God rarely bothers to. Goodness knows how the poor man's coping with the knowledge that there are giant people in the sky, lots of them, and that they view humans as snacks. Presuming he's still alive to cope with anything.

Greta's frown deepens when Iman admits that she's thinking of giving up the hijab altogether - a blow that strikes especially hard knowing that it's something she'd shared with her mother. "You shouldn't have to give up a thing," she says firmly, turning to face her. She wishes she could add that the locals' small-mindedness is their problem, but she knows better; she's just seen the way they'd make it Iman's problem, instead. But it's not fair, and it's not right, and she won't let her friend be bullied into doing something she'd rather not by awful people like that man on the street. "Not for them. If you want to wear it, wear it, and I will..." she purses her lips briefly, aware that this isn't a problem she can really solve and hating that, too, then concludes, with absurd vehemence, "I will smack as many pigeons as I have to."

Ridiculous. She reddens slightly and slides the bottles back over to Iman.