He recognizes the hat first, and wonders if he is dreaming the whole thing. There were others who had also revived, he knew that much, but a familiar face was still unexpected. And her? A project of sorts, an attempt to correct the mistakes of his own upbringing. Perhaps a protege. He could even consider her a friend.

He can't decide if he is glad to see Mòrag, or disappointed that his advice had not been enough to keep her alive.

"Strange, the lessons we remember." He takes a brush and begins scrubbing another table nearby - he'd done so often enough that his hands remember the motions. "It seems even decades are not enough time to forget chores."