"Talking to oneself is a time honored tradition." Grainne answered cheerfully, walking by, with a half painted clay pot in hand. "How else are you supposed to work out a conflict if you can't hear how silly you sound? My father used to stand up on the fort wall running through debate speeches and talking to himself, and he was considered fairly wise for his time. Of course, they didn't hear the terrible jokes he made..."

This time she paused with curiosity, turning her gaze toward Ezri, still holding the clay pot. "What is the matter? Most people do not question their sanity as such."