Meryl is not complaining about the distraction, thank you. Maybe some part of her wants to, since she put a lot of effort into cooking but. To hell with it. She allows herself to sink back into the grass, though her fingers in the dryad's hair make sure that Night Sky is coming with her.

One noise escapes her, brief and hesitant. She'll find it in herself to feel silly, or embarrassed, or anything else later. For right now, all she can think about is Night Sky.