[Hayame's hearing is in fact at least that decent, so even the low grumbling of Nebula's voice is crystal clear. Having a conversation at that decibel would at least shield their words from the other patrons back in the main part of the restaurant, and for now... She returns her words at the same volume.]

Apparently not.

[... Is her first grunt about this entire endeavor, but. A moment after, once she has taken a generous bite of a meat-based dish of some kind and chewed thoroughly, mulling over the hope-filled talk of a certain person... She grudgingly adds,]

... But. The Oracle fights are a way home for some of them, too, not just us.

[Some of the Kenosian citizens had been there so long they no longer felt connected to where they originally came from... but some of them still remembered. Some of them arrived recently enough to remember.]

They cannot fight in the Oracle trials, though, without shards or being part of this... "generation", so. I suppose the only thing they can do to feel useful is... "support" us.

[... That part, at least, she could understand. Not. The form the support took, but. The desire to do something. To be of use, rather than be a tool rusting in the armory. It's why she threw herself into the Oracle fights so fervidly in the first place, no matter that other shard-bearers spoke of mysteries and other possibilities and investigations. She was a warrior. Fighting for the Oracles is what she can do.

She still grimaces slightly, though, around another bite of food, finished with summarizing an explanation someone had given to her before when she had made the same complaint.]

... Doing it with less fanfare would be preferable, but.