"It would make sense that branching variations create differing outcomes in a manner more solid than perhaps previously assumed." It... actually, just that getting voiced seems to pull on something caught on the metaphorical doorframe, a tamped down grin—because she is ever one to plan, account for entirely too many variables, and narrow down what she can will into being (no matter how thoughtless or impulsive she appears), and she can only wonder at all those outcomes, what they might have birthed and—

Right.

It does put her in a lighter mood, comparatively (and if this Eula is indeed a Scion, maybe it's to be expected?). With an amused snort, she takes the line as prompt even if it's unintended—the meaning of improvisation! And it all certainly feels enough like theatre. That mask finds new resting place beneath her collar, affixed by unclear means.

"Wisteria." She squints past Eula again, humming, too-bright eyes scanning the reflection in the central mirror before considering its neighbours. "What's your opinion of mirrors and bad luck?"