Mathew
The library was quiet and almost somber during these late nights, almost nobody took too much time to stay here. It was quiet and those who stayed to this hour were bound to get lost in their thoughts. The silence was loud in this space, almost suffocating. But, it laid soft across those who fount comfort in it. 

Amelie stood in the library looking at the cover of a few books she found an interest within. Her crutches groaned as she flipped to book to see the summary. She sometimes finds herself in her own sort of maze in this place. She hums as she puts the book back and hums as she runs her finger across the spine of a few others that she wishes to look at. 

She adjusts her glasses as she pulls out another book, leaning forwards to take it out from it's snug enclosure. She moved back to mumble something incoherent in German before placing the book back. 
Nothing has quite caught her interest yet, she missed a slumber party for this as well... A shame. She could care less though. 

"Stereotype Fantasie."
She mumbles before scoffing at whatever book she put away. This would be endless, pulling books out before putting them back for being undermining. She was going to be at this for hours. This was getting boring.
Coleman
"Fuck."

Margarita slowly rose from her bed, groaning irritatedly, her face buried in her hands as she rubbed her eyes back open. Her now raised arm creaked quietly as it drew itself out a metre or so with the intention of reaching for her phone in the other side of the room, which she spectacularly failed now that she resorted to groping the desk blindly for a shameful amount of times before her fingertips finally felt the familiar faux leather-textured phone case and slinked her arm back to herself with her phone in hand, button clicking as green and blue and white light shone on her face.

```3:17 AM | 9 Agosto, 2022```

Sighing in defeat, Margarita blankly stared at the wall in front of her while her mind thought of everything and nothing at the same time; senseless, insignificant thoughts of no real importance or anything. *What's for breakfast? How many rooms were in the Cradle? What time was role call again?*

The chain of thoughts broke as quickly as it had begun as soon as she resolved to make use of her time being productive instead, getting up lazily out of her bed. But even getting up would prove to be a hassle as soon as she stepped on and tripped on her own rubbery ankle, immediately losing what little balance she had and fell face first. Well, chest first considering that her chin was caught on the desk and the momentum carried by her body was enough to extend her neck on its own, leaving poor Valeria to resemble a messy pile of noodle limbs on the tiled floor.

With coffee in one hand, Margarita pressed her hand against the creaky glass-and-wooden door of the well-lit library and shut it behind her. With the only persons awake in the hallways early in this morning being the patrolling security officer and one of the janitors, both of whom she greeted tiredly.

Margarita finally felt the same soothing silence fill the room once again as soon as the door slowly shut itself close as her lips met the rim of the mug and took a sip of the hot beverage as she began to stroll the seemingly endless shelves of literature. History, fiction, non-fiction, scientific, education, language (surprisingly, an Italian-English dictionary laid in the shelves amongst the other Swedish-English books), and geography, amongst other things. Her craned neck upards to match the taller shelves, eyeing their titles more closely before reeling back her head to the top of her shoulders.

This would be endless, silently reading titles before pmoving to the next for being uninteresting. She was going to be at this for hours. This was getting boring.
Mathew
Amelie has found herself trailing to other sections, all of the books never quite standing out to the girl. 
*If by magic a perfect book fell and landed by her feet, she'd be astonished. Knowing her, it'd be a book of psychology.* She rolled her eye, then refocused on finding a book she can read over the next few hours. Surprisingly it was exceedingly hard for a library stuffed with dusty things. She's surprised she hasn't found something like black magic. She wouldn't put the damn thing away if she did find it so she supposed that's for the best. 

She ignored whatever noise perhaps she was deaf or just ignorant of those around her. She took off her glasses for a second and then found herself looking at a fucking giraffe in the library. 
Who let a fucking animal that isn't supposed to even be here in a fucking Library? Amelie puts back on her glasses and... It's just that Italian. Margarita... Or whatever her name is. She looks worse for wear currently. Amelie shrugged with a mild look of disgust before returning to stare at the nonsense she pulled from her shelf of choice. 

But, what interests her is why is she here. She wouldn't expect Margarita coming to the Library. She isn't calling her stupid but... Okay she kind of is but still. What would she need to come to the library for. 

"Frau Margarita." She says in a tone only slightly above a whisper. 
"Brauchst du Hilfe?"
Amelie stops after a moment before repeating. 
"Do you need help?" 
This time it's not in German and She can hopefully understand. 

"You look like you're about to pass out against the shelves."
Truthfully Margarita did look like that. So much for pleasantries anymore.
Coleman
-Mathematics, religion, psychology, philosophy... The list never semed to end, even if Margarita's eyes scanned quickly amongst the shelves. Finally, though, her eyes caught a glimpse of the word 'Art' along the way, and quickly stepped back, her head resting itself atop her shoulders once again like a normal human being as soon as she began to thoroughly read the titles. While yes there was `Art for beginners: Anatomy (Vols. 1&2)` and `From pencil to digital, how art mediums evolved`, three stood out amongst the neatly-arranged and numbered hardcover books.

```Art throughout history: Renaissance to romanticism | 1400s to 1850
Art throughout history: Realism to futurism | 1840 - 1918
Art throughout history: Precisionism to Contemporary |1920 - 2018
```

Yes, sometimes she too was freaked out by her own capabilities, but she couldn't deny that the utility of her abilities, even for something as simple as wrapping her arm around them, was extremely convenient and perfect for someone like her who utilised said abilities in the most utilitarian manner possible.

The silence, which she appreciated for so, so much, crashed like a plane being piloted by an imbecile against a mountain the moment that a familiar voice echoed throughout the room. Margarita, hearing her name, quickly twisted around her neck like a wind-up toy as she tried to look for the speaker, and failing that she stretched her neck throughout the other shelves she hadn't passed by, eventually spotting Amelie surrounded by other books. She too, seemed to be having a problem to find something to read.

"*Signorina Amelie.* She greeted back, despite the only thing visible for her being at least half a metre of her God-knows-how-long appendage, and her head, peeking around a corner. "Braust du hi- ah, no. I just erm... Found something to bore me; just enough to call asleep, you know?"

She... Wasn't right. Even if she could only look at a fraction of her being, she looked tired. Her eyes drooped downwards; her elongated neck drooped at quite an angle instead of the usual straight line, and her hair was hastily ponytailed behind her with the rubber hairtie put on like a seven- no, five-year-old did the job.

"Honestly? I might. I just hope I get to the desks, at the very least... What are you doing here anyways? It's like... Fuck, I forgot the time, two-ish in the morning?"

Even the ability to remember details failed.
Mathew
A look of confusion and disgust laced Amelie's features as she stared at the rubber toy that was Margarita. She looked more inhuman than human... Wasn't this place supposed to reintegrate those with powers back into society? This place is strange. 

"Formalities are strange coming from you." 
She jests, looking at the books Margarita was looking at. Her face has turned more into a grimace as she looks at margarita. The girl looked like she dug herself up from hell and she was about to fall back into it. 
Amelie found the girl so loosely put together that she was breaking at the seems. Heinous. 

"Books about art make you fall asleep? You have an odd imagination then."

Amelie curls a finger into a book she plucked from it's home, it's paper curling slightly before flattening itself back around as she intruded upon it. She looked inquisitive about Margarita, holding back prying questions with instead a prying eye. 

"With how you currently look? I don't think a desk could fit your neck."
Amelie looked at the pages of the now opened book before taking her finger out of the book and snapping it shut. She puts the book back. 

"Finding somezthing that vill preoccupy my racing mind."

Amelie put two and two together and thought that Margarita of course wasn't used to long nights awake.
Coleman
"Okay, first of all..." She started, but was unable to continue the sentence. The words wouldn't simply come out of her mouth, even though her mind already having a meaning to convey on hand. "Never mind; I'm just honestly surprised you're uh... Formal, even in person, so yeah..."

As she continued her attempt to not mind the German's disgusted facial espression (and the slight passive aggressiveness) as the rest of her similarly tired body lazily caught up to where her head practically floated, Margarita finally took on a more human shape and leaned against the bookshelf, sturdy enough to carry her weight.

"Uh... Art history has probably the highest chance of knocking me out next to a dictionary; nothing like getting bored of the exact same thing I do with my hands everyday, right?" She , having not touched neither pen or pencil for weeks- no, months. 

Margarita bent over as she snickered loudly at the joke, which would've been remotely unfunny for her otherwise if it hadn't been for the fact that her mind was functioning as well as a neglected sedan which hasn't got its engine cleaned for four or five years. "I mean... Hey, fair point. My uhhhh bed couldn't even hold me either. Something's always drooping off of the bed."

As Amelie repeated the loop of taking a book, flipping a few pages, and returning it to its shelf, Margarita's curiosity at the literature Amelie was observing eventually got to her and promptly rubbernecked her way to Amelie, her face sticking only a metre away from hers, reading and silently mouthing the titles of each book Amelie held in her hands. "Right, right. By the way, how... How long have you been looking for something to read anyways? Like... It can't be that much, right?"

Well, for Amelie's case, it __can__ be that much.
Mathew
Amelie raised her brow expectantly, waiting for Margarita to finish what she said when all margarita did was deflate. Amelie's guesses that considering how long margaritas neck is, there isn't a lot of blood going through it. Let alone enough for thoughts. 
"It's the least I can do." 
She answers honestly. 

Margarita seemed to lack that energy she so clearly has online. She wonders what happened but, a library isn't a place for gossip is it? It was who was she kidding. She's just horrifically tired. She's slightly sorry for her facial expression, it shifts from disgust to the regular 1000 yard stare + scowl she always wears. It's just a default. 

"I'm not sure. I'd assume it'd pique my interest much like music does. I think you just have burnout." 
Margarita seems to have been burned away to ash long ago, something happened. Did she lose somebody? 
Like she'd know. *Margarita did put quite a ruckus over a person... What was their name... Silicon... Salon... Silas!* She told him what would help with his rocket if she remembers correctly. Seems long ago now. 

Amelie narrowed her eyes at Marg's whistle-like simper. She sounded like a teapot. This girl. 
"You're like wet pasta then. You must have quite the time in the morning." 
Turned back to her book. Or books. Until she was rudely interrupted. 

Amelie snapped her book shut, twisting her head so quickly she almost broke it. She placed the book back; grabbing another while continuing. Amelie has been here for quite a while... Hours maybe. She purses her lips, adjusting her glasses with her palm of the hand that was holding her book. 
"I've been looking for hours, Frau Margarita. Not for too long."
She pauses.
"Why are you so close?"

She speaks a vauge warning to the girl, she didn't want her to be hurt. Despite saying quite the opposite online.
Coleman
Margarita just let out a quiet "Mhmm" As the Intel® Pentium chip that was her brain thought about the answer.

"I guess? But like... Fuck, I don't know, I guess I missed an hour of sleep or a cup of coffee?" Margarita attempted to reason with herself. Five hours of sleep broken into two parts supplanted by a cup or three of coffee wasn't breaking it anymore, especially when the ability training, studying, and work all compounded into twelve or so hours of continuous effort.

At the very least, it hadn't been working all too well. At least baggy eyes and limp noodle limbs don't translate into the intranet.

"Quite some time? More like ten minutes every morning for the past month or two being spent untangling myself, ha." She scoffed at Amelie's understatement. "And hey, congrats, you're officially the third person to ever make a pasta joke!"

A short and quiet laugh burst its way through Margarita's mouth, remembering most if not all the stupid puns and jokes that people have slapped on her back since the day she entered these gates, now her haven of sorts.

"Oh, erm... I'm just... Looking at the titles of whatever books you've been taking and putting back for, I dunno, hours, as you said?" Margarita's neck visibly undulated as she squinted her eyes to take a betterlook at the hardcover book's fine print through her fingrrprint-stained glasses. "Can't find something to read or are you looking in the wrong section?"

At least now she had the chance to peruse and grab the books high up on the shelves now that the wet pasta-necked Margarita was by her side.

Ot at least her head was; tbe rest of her noodly being was resting in the other side of the wooden shelf.
Mathew
"It seems like you missed a bit more than that." 

Amelie just thinks this is rather sad, watching Margarita lope around like she was a token sad Disney character. Whatever thing Margarita had been doing to occupy or do her time with came to stab her back. Seeing her up close was awful. 

"Oh that must be quite the game-" 
Amelie was cut off abruptly at Margarita's bird-like laugh. 
"I don't think I'd be the last."

Amelie sighs while flipping through another page of the book, another disgusting book. It was a shame, this one has excellent world building too... She closes this one and places it back on the shelf. Her hand moves to another and takes the book. She opens it and reads for a moment just to see if it was worth her time. 

"I've been looking at every section."
It's true she has, it's been quite the time. Her hands have begun to get sore from what she has busied herself with but she always ignores the pain of protest. 
Amelie looked up at Margarita with her uncanny... State. 

"I was going to ask you something, but before I ask... Could you come closer?"

Amelie wasn't about to ask margarita to look for something while her glasses looked like wet mud that people have walked through. 
Somebody help this poor girl.

"I hate to say it seems you're running on mere fumes."

There's a hint of amusement as well as worry mixing lightly in her grating broken voice. 
"Ah? As long as you enjoy it I assume."

 Amelie has already read these things, it was getting hard for her to find something she hasn't read or deemed a bad book. She wonders if she could read the epic of Gilgamesh. That would certainly be something. 

Amelie stared at Margarita, getting closer until there was but just three inches between them. Amelie raised her hand and gently took off Margarita's glasses. Amelie put her book away and put her hand into an inside pocket of her leather jacket on its right side. She takes out a small spray bottle and a piece of fabric, the fabric is seemingly there for Amelie's glasses. 

She sprays the glasses wiping them till Amelie deemed them clean. She turns back to Margarita looking at her for a moment before placing Margarita's glasses back on Marg's face. 
Amelie puts the piece of fabric and spray bottle in the pocket before looking to the top shelves. Margarita would hopefully find it easier to see what Amelie was looking for. 

"There is a book up there I've had my eyes upon. Girl next door. Could you get it for me, Madame?"
Coleman
"Mmm, yeah, I know, I know, I... I don't want to sleep yet so I have coffee." Which... Was cold by now, still in her hand miraculously without a spill. Mostly brcause she left her body sitting still in one place.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fiiiiine, and I'll be. I'm just... Uh... Looking for something to relax with, you know?"

Peeking closer, Margarita yelped in shock as her glasses were pulled away from her, squinting as she tried to see what was happening half a metre before her: a spraying noise followed by a blob of colour spinning around *Something* Which she assumed to be her glasses. 

And she was right; once Amelie slid her glasses back on her face, she did so incorrectly, leaving Margarita unamused as her pair of spectacles dropped down to her lip, unsupported by the bridge of her nose.

*Hey, thst was still clean!" Margarita protested, despite her lenses previously fingerprint-ridden, scratch-filled, and dust-riddled vision "But grazie." She wuietly whispered.

The room was then filled with silence except for a continous yet slighty audible as Margarita swiftly stretched her neck to the top shelf and followed it up with her one free hand, skimming the book titles until she found the correct one, `Girl next door.`, before wrapping it up with ehr extended digits.

Looping her neck around, she dived down with the book in one hand, the face of the thing right in front of Amelie. "This one, amica mia?"

Hope Amelie didn't mind being surrounded by floating human noodles, undulating and making that disturbing rubber-like noise with every movement it made.

And how does air even manage to reach her lungs?
Mathew
"Your definition of clean is very skewed, Frau Margarita."
Amelie just felt Margarita would see better with without those small annoyances. She can't have Margarita not see perfectly no? Amelie let a small smirk grace her features for a second.
"You're welcome." 

Amelie looked at the book, gently collecting it from Margarita's hand. 
 Amelie hummed, brushing her fingers over the cover before looking to Margarita. 
"Yes, draga mia. This is the one I needed." 

Amelie thought about what Margarita said before. Something to relax to is what she needs, she can provide that. 
"Come with me, Frau Margarita."
Amelie scowls at the taut skin stretched so thinly on the girl.
"All of you. I have a good book or two you might like. Art correct?"

Amelie tucks her book into her arm and turns away from Margarita. Heading to another section. Close to where margarita was but not quite. She stops, skimming her fingers on a book before plucking it out. 
``The completed works of Leonardo da vinci.``
Amelie holds it to where she'd hope Margarita would be.
"I have found this if you have not read it yet. Also there might be some game art books here along with Morpho art books. I trust I can find something you'd like in this mess." 

Amelie thought again to the thin spindly thing Margarita turns into and shivers. 
She wasn't even going to ask.

IS THIS STUFF GONE??

Just making sure it's back
Coleman
"I mean... It's not *Too* Stained yet, but it's still fine!" She complained but abruptly stopped as ing was pushed back onto her face, her undeniably clear vision free of fingerprint and water stains enough to silence her.

"Grazie." Margarita boredly replied to Amelie's advanced 'welcome'.

As she trailed her head behind Amelie and left behind an ever-thinning appendage, she was abruptly stopped and annoyedly replied "Fine, fine *Mia amica*, I'm standing up." And commanded her body to stand up without spilling the cup of coffee still in her hand, now cool enough for the Italian to sip from after she had reeled her neck back to its... Appropriate proportions.

Now trailing her entire self behind Amelie, she drank another long sip of her coffee, stopping only to receive and read the hard-covered that she was handed: A book on all of Leonardo's artwork.

"I... Have not." Margarita replied, her eyes skimming the text on its backside. Somehow she found it ironic that she had studied art more from French and American artists more than those that had made their name in the very country that she was raised from.

"I'll take a look at those later, grazie." She replied, opening the book to its introduction using her extended fingers, comfortably holding onto the heavy thing. A more lengthened index finger flipped the page, and looking up, she caught a hint of a shiver.

"I'll guess: too weird for you, my abilities?" She asked nicely. The silence was broken again as she sipped the coffee, now half of what it used to be.
Mathew
Amelie stares at Margarita, her brow furrowed in what possibly was disgust maybe something else. Amelie pinches the bridge of her nose because motioning to margarita. 
"Not necessarily." 
Amelie said and then took a moment to gather herself. 

"Just, reminds me of things I'd very much not have thoughts about." 
She turned looking at the books once more. She finds another book about classical art and wordlessly walks over to margarita and holds it out for her. 

"Let's forget about what I said and focus on you. For somebody so interested in the human anatomy you seem to ignore it often." 
Amelie jokes, amusement lacing her tone where once was something hostile and scared. She looks at the books Margarita has. That should tide her over for a short while at least. 

Amelie stands small against the towering wood of the Library. Staring at margarita with an uncomfortable look. Wide and almost like an animal, for a moment something moves under her jacket it makes a noise and all is silent again. Amelie shakes her head and goes back to the narrowed gaze she usually sports. 

"If you bring coffee at least bring some for me. I wouldn't trust you though you'd drink it like the criminal you are."
Amelie taps margaritas head with her book, walking over to the shelves once more. 
"How do you take your coffee?"

Innocent question.
Coleman
"Like what? A giraffe?" Margarita lightheartedly answered, taking the book and reading its title. The ever thickening pile of books warranted the use of an entire limb to keep them from falling, the weight now entering the realm of 'challenging to hold'. 

"Hah, well, I guess God found it comedic for someone to study the human anatomy so much only to, as you say, ignore it often. Now, in all fairness; my skills as an artist came before this parahuman thing took place and landed me in this frozen concrete hole, so it's not like I had a choice in the first place." Another gulp of coffee followed. "But I mean, hey, I now have the same anatomy as Reed Richards." A short but quiet laugh followed. Oh how her life had changed in ways she never even knew existed.

That look again. Was seeing a human with impossibly disproportionate body parts that scary? Or... W as it perhaps her jacket. "Amelie, you okay?" A slight worry began to pool in Margarita's thoughts.

"Of course I'll take a small sip and see if it's good; if it is, then I'll copy the way you make it. If not, then you won't ever catch me taking a sip of your coffee ever again." She replied with the same light-hearted tone as always, the tiredness going away as the caffeine did its job and the company of a friend lightened the otherwise silent mood. "But no, uh, one and a half teaspoons of coffee grounds and three teaspons of creamer. What about yours?"

Innocent answer.
Mathew
"No." Amelie said with a frown, oddly serious for a lighthearted jest that would've usually made another grin even just a little. Amelie was just stacking books on Margarita both to entertain margarita and keep Amelie from seeing her face. At least margarita will hopefully like the books. 

"The gods find lots of things comedic if they let us meet. You say that as if any of the children here have choice to be here." 
Amelie makes a face of confusion, that looks more like she's about to keel over than anything. 
"Who in the hell is Reed Richards."
Amelie turned from margarita, facing the wall of literature of interest matched only by an artist meeting their best craft. 

Amelie's body despite the leather jacket covering it, looks awful. One side of her back jutting upwards and the other side looking like it's spiraling in circles. There's an ugly snap that cracks like lightning and echos faintly in the library. Margarita can see Amelie finch. Amelie herself wants to snap and break the very things that did that. 
"Fine." She speaks, slightly strained like scorned hands against rope.

Amelie let's out a huff that suspiciously sounds like a cracked laugh. "Sure." 
Margarita was an odd company, at least it wasn't tense. Thought Margarita looked like she was drinking like the coffee was her lifeblood. Amelie would be damned, maybe this girl took more coffee than Amelie took blood from the hospital. That's far fetched. 
"Two teaspoons coffee. Two and a half teaspoons creamer." 
Amelie hums. 
"Sometimes I just take a doppio."
She shrugs, looking at Margarita for a second before walking back to her. 
She has given Margarita enough books Amelie thinks.
Coleman
Well then, at least the books kept stacking. So much so that when one of the books began to block ehr vision she just... Evaded, and let her neck loose once again (for the six-hundred and seventy-second time today) so that she could maneuver her head to the side and infront of the books and at least see what's in front of her. "I guess they have a great sense of humour then, putting together in the same room a woman with too many bones and another woman with a complete lack of pernanently-solid bones." She smirked at the comical thought as well. Maybe Gods weren't always so boring and unfunny.

"I- you don't know? Fantastic four? The rubber man?" She could've sworn everyone saw that one Fantastic 4 movie back then, but well... Maybe everyone except one.

"Are you *Really* Sure?" Margarita asked in an ever-increasing tone of worry; she could hear the cracks and snaps, plus the jacket moving on its own without Amelie shifitng her hands around. And that wince... "You look like you need a painkiller or three. Again: are you sure you're okay right? Do you need a nurse or something?"

How was she supposed to know? She didn't know how to care for a disabled person let alone a fellow parahuman in a constant state of pain.

"Hm, not bad." Doppio is nice now and then, she thought. Her head reeled back as Amelie approached. "So... Want me to make one now or later?"
Mathew
Amelie frowned when she saw Margarita act like a snake fresh from a box. She looked purturbed with the whole weird mocking gimmick. 
"Oh, zey have ans amazing sense of humour. Zey love to mochk me at every inconvenience."
She said with a tone that seems to wave off everything with a slight twitch of aloofness.

"No?"
What the fuck was the fantastic four. It sounds awfully stupid. She dosent want to really know. 
Amelie takes a moment to find something within one of the pockets of her leather jacket. 

Amelie opened her prescription bottle with a snap she tips the bottle and a pill falls into her hand. She pops it into her mouth and swallows it dry. The painkillers seem to wear off at the worst of times. 
"I'm fine, Frau Margarita. It's nothing you can help with." 
Amelie takes a breath to settle herself, the bones seem to scream and make themselves worse for a moment. Amelie's hand clenches tightly on her crutch and her breath becomes slightly labored. It settles, though it dosent truly do away, it settles and sinks. 

Amelie has her eye wide as she wobbles through seemingly a different mind. A tear soaks into the bandage and she lets out a trembling breath. 

Amelie raises a finger, taking a moment to put her hands back on her crutches with a slight shake. 
"Perhaps later. I don't want you to drop those books immediately. Perhaps when we put our selected literature down in our dorms we can go to the common rooms and have a cup there, if only you don't pass out till then." 
She picks up her book, tucking it into the crevice of her arm. 
"But, if you want we can do that now?"
Coleman
She could feel the mood sour a bit as she saw Amelie's face look... Uneasy with her little maneuver; while she wanted to ease off on it, not seeing what was in front of her was surely going to be an embarrasing topic for half the Cradle once she spils coffee all over her hair and soon spend an hour cleaning rugs. Not the best thing to wake up to tomorrow.

"Okay, noted." She defeatedly answered. Feeling unable to help with something always felt too painful. She winced as she watched Amelie undergo what she thought to be the most unimaginable pain anyone could ever feel, yet no of relief followed.

Poor thing. Who would have ever deserved this?

"No, no I can put this here for now, if you would like? I don't think anyone ever deserves to hear about me rambling about the finer things of drawing, no?" She laid the books on a random table, her head placing itself where it should have been for the past... Fifteen minutes that she was here, searching and conversing. 

"Let's go do that then, sí?"
Mathew
The air is a little suffocating with the silence that wastes away with the conversation they were having. It drained whatever thing they spoke of with a disgusting heavy weight of pity. Amelie makes a noise of disgust at the notion, pity wouldn't make anything better. 

She waits for Margarita to say something, anything at all to try and move aside this falsehood of guilt. When she finally does, it confuses Amelie moreso than it does clear the air. 

"I vouldn't particularly mind, Frau margarita. If it makes you happy then I don't see how that could damage any conversation." 
Amelie sighs and moves a little to stand by margarita for a moment, if only to motion to the door. She moves past the rubber woman quickly. 

"Yes. Come on now, you're slower than I am."
Amelie says with a small jest. This company is at least a little to look forward to.