Greta can't help but snort at that last comment, though there's sympathy in her grin. She's known Sweeney for a long time, but hasn't yet forgotten how startled she was to find him towering over her as much as he does. Some of the stories she was raised on did suggest that the fair folk could look like any number of things — like birds, or hounds, or even ordinary people (unless you knew just what to look for) — but they never specified 'bloody enormous.'

She notes the shift in Sweeney's expression, and lays her hand on his arm for a moment in quiet sympathy. It's only natural to forget pieces of your past — goodness knows there's plenty she doesn't remember, and she's had far less time in which to lose things — but it must be unnerving, to know that what you don't remember might be important.

"I don't think any of the stories I was told as a child included all that," she muses. With a little more deliberate lightness, she adds, "Certainly not enough for me to expect you to be so enormous."

"I'd only just heard there was a leprechaun in the city, at first," she says, this more for Anne's benefit. Sweeney knows this part of the story just as well as Greta does. "I didn't actually meet him until I'd been leaving out offerings for a little while."