Cirno clambered up Samus' leg and back, dangling loosely off of one of her pauldrons as bounty hunter spoke with the others. 
"Hey mister, can I ride on your shoulder? Are you a robit? What're those holes on your back for? How come you sound like that? Does the green thingy on your arm come off? Is it hard having one hand? Why are your shoulders so huge? Hey, what's that over there?"
Cirno pointed at a small, picturesque diner some ways off. It looked like something out of 1950's America: Wide glass windows, neon signs, and cheerful silver-and-red color scheme, a look that clashed immensely with the crumbling, grimy, dystopian hellscape that surrounded it. From the looks of things, most of the native populace gave it a wide berth. 
"...D'ya think they sell ice cream?"