"You're not; I don't much like being stared at, but I wouldn't call that bothering, 'xactly." She sighs, sits up a bit straighter and takes her hand away from plushie-Requin. "This thing was a gift from miss no face. Spitting image of a weird little dog I know at home."

So he's sort of a mild comfort, not that she's going to say as much. It's not like she's cuddling up to the thing like some kid, and truth be told there's as much homesickness attached to it as anything else, but it's... something.

She nods vaguely towards the bookshelves, "If you're looking for stuff that ain't fiction, you're wasting your time, sorry to say."