Marcie's parents had drilling politeness into her as a child. Always say thank you, Marcella, even if it's Gran giving you another hideous hand-made doll with crooked eyes. Especially then. But it was no hardship to thank Qebhet for her offer, and manners were free, as her dad always said.
"I'd like to go in now," she said, her grip on the tote bag tightening. "I didn't know what to bring. I only have a teeshirt of his to dress him in, so I bought some jeans and socks. They're cotton." The better to burn up, she supposed. She should've asked Kaden what he wanted done. It was a kind of awful text question to send.