The faintest touch of pink, in River's cheeks. "Think nothing of it. 's my job. Family thing, kinda...hard to explain..."

She sighs in frustration at herself, trilling in a musical language that matches her accent much better than whatever oddity is letting everyone understand each other. "Wren damn my eyes," River translates, deflating some. "I'm hardly gonna get a better chance to say what I've been trying to say since I walked up, not after delivering that. Odd shock. By mistake. Miss Whitlock, I'm a necromancer by profession. I'm not going to insult your cunning by explaining how you caught my attention."

And more to the point, she's not going to say 'you're a fucking ghost' in the middle of this street.