"A nickname?" What a strange concept. She's only had one, and no one's used it since she was a child. She'd had her slew of aliases as she shed old identities, old lives and versions of herself, the closer the authorities drew to her. She'd flitted through almost half of her life as other people that the thought of a nickname - one based of who she really is - is mystifying. "It sounds very much like my own parents, though my father was the only one to come up with a nickname."

She tilts her head with curiosity, withdrawing her arm from Moana's shoulder. It isn't due to feeling uncomfortable, like she expected, but rather the stiffness in her muscle.

"What's a minnow?"