"Themselves, largely." Their gaze roves over the pair of children with the enthusiasm of a dulled knife. Cannot possibly allow a breath of it to leak through, and so they do not. They speak slowly, measured, as though this is of as patently little importance as the weather.

For what it's worth, it is - a beautiful day outside. Whatever this world has that passes for birds are probably singing. The alien equivalent of flowers are likely blooming.

A truly beautiful day outside.

"You have only but to offer them a sword, and they will fall upon it." Their eyes slide to Rinzler, back again, and they add, "metaphorically, of course. Though I imagine they would take it to literal levels if they could."