Havelock's weight shifts very slightly, balancing himself on the vines that he can now feel under his feet.

It's amazing, he thinks clinically - no real disorientation, just the difference between one body and another. He rests one hand lightly against a beam, and looks up - first to Trowa, seeing that the exchange is complete, and then at the girl in the strange ballet dress.

He regards her for a moment, and then nods.

"Thank you," he echoes.