The seeds of insecurity bloom at a truly daunting speed with Mari's eyes on her, and with every second they linger, Dia feels her face grow hotter. What? Why's she staring? And what's that stuttering for?!

"-- Ah, yes, right. Of course."

Dia pulls the robe tighter around her in a half-conscious motion (the process confirms it wasn't loose or anything-- thank God, she would've died), and shuffles over towards the sofa with her head ducked low.

Boy. She's not one bit prepared.