Blinking, Ellever glances over at the rest of the people on the deck, most of them being ferried off or climbing on board to move crates around. She chews her bottom lip thoughtfully before looking back to Stone. Even though a large part of her tells her to be pragmatic, that these supplies are being treated carefully and are thus important, she feels terrible taking up anything that someone else might need more.

It's a guilt that always chews at her, it's simply much more aggressive now that she remembers Circe hovering over her, shushing her, with a gun to her head.

You don't deserve a jacket.

"Um, if you wouldn't mind flying me, that would be great of you," she says, with a shaky smile. That's a thankfully distracting thought. Flying. On a Raksura? Perhaps there's a silver lining after all. The Moth was never sturdy enough for her to fly on, and she'd be covered in dust afterward anyway.

Then, another thought. Ellever pats her the pockets of her shorts. Nothing. No keys, no wallet.

"Does the shop take money? I, uh. Don't seem to have anything."