She sighed, putting two and two together. "You didn't give me modern ones, huh? Because you want to stress me out?"
Still nothing.
"…Or save me from asking a thousand questions?"
The air around her sparkled faintly, like Bubu was laughing in binary.
"Yeah. I'm going with the first," she muttered.
Her hand dropped from the jug as she stepped back and exhaled through her nose. "You know what?... I don't care." She straightened up and pulled her hair into a messy twist like she was about to host a cooking show in prehistoric times. "Let's do this."
Then, with an elegant flick of her wrist and a totally unearned confidence, Isabella turned back to gather her weird, ancient soap-making tools like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"Bubu, place these in my space so it'll be easier to carry them around," Isabella said, tilting her chin at the floating, semi-transparent screen glowing above the field of packed dirt.
