Rose's matter-of-fact acknowledgment earns a wry, somewhat relieved smirk which all too quickly shifts into an expression of dull bewilderment as Norah finds herself bombarded with details and questions she could not have anticipated. How she detests finding herself on the back foot in such matters, for how often it seems to happen.

"What kind...?" she blurts rather stupidly. "I was not aware there were different kinds, but then, I suppose I haven't met very many others. I am the ghost of myself. I have a haunting place but I am now free to leave it if I wish. Does that help?" She tries to temper her tone between mildly arch indignation and genuine curiosity, one eyebrow raised.