Maybe it's just the fatigue, but Maria finds that she's having a hard time making sense of the faerie's explanations. Stealing names and presents and drops of dew... the whole story just won't settle in the monk's mind. Still, she supposes that different folks have different ways of dealing with things; and if the fey choose to punish their "criminals" by tickling them until they wet their mushroom, then that's really all there is to it.<br/><br/><em>It might be interesting to see...</em><br/><br/>A little blush flares up in the monk's cheeks, and she shakes the thought out of the back of her mind. What was she thinking?<br/><br/>"I gotcha, I gotcha..." The monk wracks her brain, attempting to remember if the pixie in front of her was the same pixie she'd met on her hunt for the wild boar; but until an answer comes, she might as well continue. "Well, thinkin' of presents... I was wonderin' something. Have you folks seen a shiny little blue rock around here, kinda glowin' and magical, an' not from around these parts? If so, I'd wonder what kind of present a fella-"<br/><br/>Only now does the monk realize that she's not in her male form, and sheepishly she shakes her head.<br/><br/>"I mean, a girl like myself might give ya in trade for it?"