The woman is quick to fill in the gap Rin leaves in their conversation. She remarks about Rin's ability to go unnoticed, which feels like both a neat trick and a lonely thing to the girl; to be invisible is a benefit when danger is present, but it is a curse when desiring to do more, to be heard and felt and noticed. Saying none of this, however, Rin merely smiles at the woman and says, "it happens more frequently than you would think."
For another moment, there is a brief pause, but this one less heavy. It isn't a lull created by a loss for words or the broadening wonder of when the conversation will end. (And it wasn't true silence anyways, Rin could still hear the soft tha-dump of her heart, her steady rhythm from within.) During this brief moment, the stranger sinks to the floor and meets Rin at an equal level. It's unexpected. What gain does someone have by speaking with her when they do not need to?
The wondering is fleeting because she offers Rin her kabobs, thrusting them towards her with no hesitation. "Oh," she says with surprise, reaching out falteringly to grab the skewered food. "Thank you." Some days she ate more than others, and on one of those days, there was a chance she might've declined the food. Today, however, she was hungry.
At her next question, Rins says, "I know, but I like to watch the stars." It isn't a lie, but it also isn't the entire truth. It is dangerous in Haulani at night, but she doesn't have anywhere else to go. They are pinpricks of light in a dark and lonely night, and though they cannot save her from danger, they give her hope and comfort. "Won't you be hungry without your food?"
