Lisa snaps out of her own discomfort when she realizes someone's talking to her, lemonade in a cup in her hand sloshing over the sides and onto her fingers. She doesn't immediately notice; this is itself probably not a good sign for her mental state. Still, she flashes a (slightly tired) smile at the attempt. "Hey. Lisa," she drawls lightly. "I don't know if it's true. I'm, well, not sure if I want it to be true?" A pause. "If it isn't, this city's even stranger than I thought it was. And if it is..." Her tone softens. "We're in deep, right? How far down does the rabbit hole go?"

...She absently moves to curl a lock of hair around a finger, and finds she's getting her hair wet with what is probably instant lemonade, her expression souring. "Ew."