Collette personally opts for knowing him well, and to no small degree because he doesn't react to her presence, and she knew which pocket held the cheese. "That's who he was saving extra for," she says softly, giving a slow shake of her head. Collette flashes a smile at the little girl, giving her a small wave with her fingers before directing her attention to the puddle. Stan and girl she lets sort themselves out as they like -- she's not much for staring overtly at things which aren't really that astoundingly odd.

"I didn't know Stan had a friend with him. I would have said hello! My name's Collette," she continues, everything conversational as she does her best to clean up the juice spill.

At least her energy's back on the rise. If it weren't, Collette would hate the creeping, fearful insecurity of her life right now even more, in the ephemeral sense that she ever hated anything. (Internal railing that it's unfair, pouting at the wall, breathing out and then tackling the world. No one here was paid to listen to her whine. Sadly.)

"Stan, can I grab you anything to drink? You or your friend."