Peridot's eyes go wide, easy to mistake for abject horror at having a version of herself emerge fully formed from a toilet. It seems like something that would evoke nightmares... And yet the wide-eyed look becomes ecstatic giggling as soon as the tiny watery footie pajamas make landfall.

"Holy smokes." She approaches it, mimicking it as it moves, growing steadily more enraptured, the more it moves like her. "Why aren't we using these as part of our collaborative pieces?"

She draws back, tapping her chin. "Although maybe it's not a trick that's ready for the greater population. They might not appreciate the finesse required to conjure such brilliant likenesses."

This is clearly Peridotese for 'I like water me. No one else can have water clones now. I have claimed them.'