River cocks her head as if listening to the air around them (but then, there's discreet music piped into these hallways, after all), while she lets Duo steer them down the hall. Her hand rests comfortably and absentmindedly inside his elbow.

"Got an appointment," she says, just a little dreamy. Her eyes slide to Duo, though her head doesn't turn. "He's not fashed."