"Nothing," Fern starts almost defensively, and begins to shoot a moody look at whoever it is who has chosen to drop down into the seat directly across from hers, before her eyes widen a fraction and she fixates on the little dragon flitting through the air with animated interest. (Just visible on her left hand is a glove, barely muting a dull green glow from an anchor shard.)

"Is that--" she blurts out, awed, and scoots her chair closer to the table to get a closer look at Charis. Holy buckets she's never seen a dragon before, and getting a look at one up close seems to have completely chased away whatever sour mood she was in seconds before, judging by the smile starting to form at the corners of her mouth.

"Is it yours?" she asks, turning her very large blue eyes on Adalia next. Evidently full of questions, she blurts out a few more. "Maker, how'd you find it? Does it sleep here in the Gallows?"