[It's a game Hector had little practice with before arriving through the mirror, but now he's come to enjoy it.]

Not much rain, where they come from. The needles are for protection. Some of the prickliest ones have the sweetest water inside.

[Or so Hector's heard say. He's never made it out into the desert wastes himself, just read about the flora in Dracula's library. But he's supposed to be flirting, not discussing the fascinating evolution of desert plants. Nerds.

He rubs Linden's shoulder idly with his thumb, hoping to ease some of that tension he feels in the witch's frame.]

It can be worth quite a bit of effort to taste it.