Ingrid
Ingrid plopped down in the grass beside her, picking up a frond and examining it. "I don't have a clue. But also... Why do you want to make a basket? Can't you just, y'know, trade for one?" she asked, stretching her arms behind her head. She leaned in to inspect Weaver's work. "Also, I don't think you can make a basket out of just grass. It's like a gay man in a room full of show girls: flimsy until you add some sticks."
”Have I seen you in Halo?”
"Yeah, probably. I lurk by the shrine and the bar a lot. You're from Halo, too, right?" she asked.
"Shrine Ho"
