A little nudge shouldn't get her moving, but it does, and she's shuffling into the gargantuan closet, her gaze finally sweeping over everything. Of course it's big. She's a queen. Still, Zaira's never seen anything quite so extravagant before. Racks of dresses, shoes--so many shoes she has no idea how one single woman could possibly wear them all... and in so many colors. It's like a rainbow. "Do you have shoes for every day of the year?" she absently asks, genuinely curious as she fingers the strap of a teal colored heel.

"We'll have to find you some eventually. It's good to have." She doesn't realize she's thinking longer term, or that she may not be around longer term. The offer to borrow something has her glancing down at her own outfit. Right, there won't be time to stop by her flat to grab better gear. "Thank you. Let's get you settled, first."

It does take some time to weed through the dresses and get to the pants and tops. Layers are her aim, so she looks for tops in all sleeve lengths, sweaters, scarves, and pants--something a little thicker, sturdier, warmer for Oslo's temperatures. "Gloves. Have they ever taught you self defense?"