This is the weirdest skeleton that River has ever seen. She actually pinches herself before approaching but, no, that sure is a skeleton that doesn't quite feel right to her necromancer's senses. An undead being brought here by the white-haired lady, the way Annabel and Angel and Erik were? Part of the local life, currently unusually friendly? Not an illusion, at least, so...

Nothing for it but to approach. Papyrus's view of the clouds gets obscured by a red-haired elf leaning over him from behind, green eyes blinking slowly in curiosity, hands on her hips well away from the sword riding there.

"Good afternoon, sssss - gggoooo -" Pause. "Okay, give me a hand here, the local customs seem to be 'sir' or 'miss', I'm used to 'goodman' and 'goody', but the closest polite title I've got for someone of your persuasion is 'dread master' and I don't wanna leap to assuming you're a necromancer."