Luna sits with her, reaching into her battered leather bag, which she made herself after waking up in a field next to a gutted cow one morning, and pulling out a huge notebook, opening it on one side, showing a sketch of a woman on a ship, smiling and wearing old fashioned clothes. Luna hurriedly closes it, opening the other side with just some notes, badly spelled but in gorgeous old fashioned calligraphy.<br/><br/>"I'm Irish... from a place called Tramore north of Dublin." She smiles slightly "Nice... uuh... thing." She inwardly curses, wishing she'd kept up on technological advances...