I'd say it's because of our habit of poking our noses places they don't belong, but things just seem to happen in this place. Even if you try and mind your own business.

[ She saw that for herself when the undead mermaid tried to drown him a couple of months back, heard about the spectre of reaper-ized Saren ambushing him. And then the anonymous messages on the shellphone network about possession-fuelled marriages, the spirits trying to cart people off into the farplane.

No doubt the list will continue to grow in their time here. But, for now... ]

That sounds good, we should probably have something before we start drinking.

[ She leans into him as he steps closer, his presence always a comfort. Making good memories should go some ways to putting bad memories to rest. ]