Mist flops down on the ramp and accepts the boots, then eyes her feet uncertainly. Though her instinct is to wash herself with her tongue, something about the stuff she stepped in is so icky that a part of her wants a different option. It seems wrong on a level beyond even a Hutt... and so she sits there with her left foot in front of her face, opening and closing her mouth each time she changes her mind on how to wash herself...



