“Pardon me, young man--!”

   Rainbow’s tone is nothing less than polite, but a gentle chime over-top the winter breeze as they approach the teen with hands behind back; fingers clutched about the bulk of their carried parasol. Despite the--perhaps unnatural--layering of vision upon their visage, a smile is ever gentle, and dual-colored eyes close to bring focus upon their welcome rather than their stare.

   “I’ve found myself a little turned around; do you happen to know where I could find--”

   A pause, four eyes opened, and the hands behind their back are brought forward; umbrella clutched in one, while the other unravels the map they’d been graced with. The paper is given a shake, and with a quick scan, the Gem continues,