A gruff, unhappy rumbling noise is all Degas can muster for an answer, at first. It's is unsettling and strange to notice these shifts, slight though they might be. Plus, she has an unfortunate point; he wouldn't be able to discern the truth.

"Hmm. Well, be that as it may, I will ask you try not to cause any sort of ruckus, possessed or not. We have plenty already. But perhaps that inquisitive nature is best channeled into something productive." Perhaps he could send her along to Ms. Leeds...