Her appetite returns with the walk and the trip on the train, though she is not used to a city that is quite so quiet in comparison to the compacted, chaotic disorder of Hong Kong. The rattle of the train helpfully swallows the white noise that blooms in the absence of conversation, replaced by the lap of water once they exit.

Mako braces both hands on the rail and leans, sucking in the air with its rich scent of water and its lack of salt, shutting her eyes to assist with the illusion that the pelagic scope is anywhere but where it is. She wills her lungs to flare with the sea's sharp breeze.

She opens her eyes and shatters the non-illusion. She cannot transmute a lake into an ocean on the other side of the world. She cannot imbue the water with radioactive sludge and fill the sea with monsters.

The part of her that is Raleigh finds solace in the silence. The part of her that is still Mako shifts, uncomfortable with the stretch of quiet as it deepens and she can think of nothing to say.

"Thank you," she finally says quietly. For the food and for the view.