Red stares openly in confusion at him during that silent moment where something shifts even if she can't tell what. It feels like his aura grows brighter almost, like it reaches around her even as he stares at her. She is trying to read what's happening but has no idea. The confusion etches further even as she shakes her head.

And then like that, he blinks, the aura fades though still brighter than anything she's seen before, and the conversation shifts back as if nothing on Earth has happened. Of course, he's right. She's blunt as hell, and she's tempted to ask what exactly happened just there?

What is it she's reading from him? But she doesn't. This isn't the time. They're in the middle of the party, but that doesn't mean she'll forget it happened or forget what she's sensing from him. She can't really let this one sit. Something happened. Something changed. She feels weirdly vulnerable.

"Later." Her voice is blunt but insistent. But manages to gather herself up again: "Okay, okay, Sherlock. Shit. Might have to change your nickname to Sherlock. That's good. The old guy seems kind of like an obvious route. He'll want the ghosts on the other side to welcome him to it as gently as possible, which means taking care of the lost souls here on the living side of things, but-" She wrinkles her nose. "The woman's harder. How can we use this as a way to get back? Like a guilt trip? I did this for you now do this for me?"