She allowed herself to be pleased with the idea that he might attribute those traits to her. It was silly to get excited at the thought of Jareth finding her 'special' out of all the people he'd encountered, but it was a delightful little fantasy. "You seem to have a rather low opinion of humanity. After spending most of your time with goblins, I wouldn't think you be so difficult to please." She dipped her fingertips in the water, careful not to touch any of the wishes. "Though, maybe seeing so many hopes and dreams could make one jaded. Not everyone dreams of finding a cure for--"
She was interrupted by a frantic goblin who was carrying a bowl of a hot, soup-like substance. The creature run up to her, apparently thinking itself in a great deal of trouble. Lirael tilted her head, confused. She hadn't ordered any food, and she hadn't seen Jareth give any commands, unless he could do so telepathically.
The goblin fumbled as he reached the Abhorsen and the bowl flew out of his hands and onto Lirael's chest. Her eyes widened as the liquid started eating through the leather of the bandolier and the cloth of her dress. The mail underneath her clothes saved her skin, but the leather pouches that held her bells were another story. She acted quickly, catching Mosrael and Kibeth before they rang, sparing them an accidental summoning of the dancing dead, but Ranna slipped through her fingers. The tiny bell clammered to the ground, it's high, clear notes singing out and calling those in earshot to sweet slumber.
Lirael yawned, holding Mosrael and Kibeth to her chest tightly so they wouldn't ring. She couldn't fall asleep here, she thought as she dropped to her knees, then to the ground. Her eyes closed as she marveled at how soft and bed-like the stone path seemed.