The charcoal stains on her hands... Nanshe took a peek at the paper the young woman'd been working on, then smiled a little awkwardly. It was one thing to know that you were being drawn... sketched... painted... but it was quite another to see the result. "You have a lovely talent, dear," she said softly, all the same, in an attempt to ease any shyness the woman might have.
But then the girl was apologizing for what she was about to say -- and then she was saying it. Different? Nanshe leaned back in her chair, looked at Morpheus, then looked at the young lady again. "Well, I suppose everyone is," she hedged, uncertain if it was quite wise to say exactly what she was -- what they both were. "What do you mean about everyone here? I... I'm not really sure what's going on. Do you know... Annabellle?"
She left it to Morpheus to reveal his name, if he wanted. It was common practice for many deities to take modern human names. She herself sometimes left her name at "Nan," and none were wiser for it.