"It sounds like you've had a real fun life." Said with a scoff, her eyes flick back towards the path again as the nearest patch of fleshy tendrils begin to shy away as if sensing Connie's anger— a shame that it doesn't last, since the moment the pair (or pack, really, if you include Connie's companions) pass by, those slight, slender tentacles reach and strain forward towards their backs like plants starved entirely of sunlight.