Not bullheaded. That could easily be argued, and the tiny smile on Amélie's face said that quite clearly. But she turned her attention to the arm, hand running over the length of it. Though lacking any of her own, she was more than familiar with the variety of prosthetic limbs available in her own world. This one was of a nice high quality, though it didn't seem like a Legion design - more something she would see back home. Interesting.

She didn't see the engraving at first; her fingers found it. Just a rough patch underneath pads, she thought it may have been a flaw at first. Odd considering the quality of the rest of it.

"There's a-- oh." Her words pointing out the perceived flaw drifted off as she turned the arm to bring the area into the light and she saw what it was.

Continuing to stare at the engraved spider, Amélie was at a loss for words. The rational, logical part of her mind pointed out that it could be a coincidence, that it was merely the mark of the arm's creator or had nothing to do with her. Another part of her noted a bit of heat to her face again, sluggish blood monumentally moving to her cheeks, darkening them for a second time. Swallowing thickly, her eyes shifted back to Marjara.

"I grabbed a room." A pause and then quickly, as though she'd tripped over her own feet, "We should get cleaned up."