[... Somehow, Hayame doubts that Akua could do anything and not be dramatic about it. It's easy to imagine, the woman's dark fingers sliding elegantly along the pipe, her painted lips wrapped around the mouthpiece, the way smoke would curl off her tongue... (Ahem.)]

... It is best not to smoke, Akua. The scent will make you far too easy to track on the battlefield.

[... The time for practical input, obviously. But beyond that...]

... I will rest well, then.

[Either thing is... a good thing. The latter, more than the former, she thinks, because... what did she own that had any sentimental value? She has only her weapons, and even those... except for the arrows her brother had fletched, what worth had they? She had never owned her own clothing, any item that wasn't for hunting... But the oracle objects would be safe with Akua.

Looking around the woman's part of their camp... Hayame adds, a bit belatedly,]

- Here, perhaps... ?

[... It might be nice to get the rest of the burrs out of her coat.]