Lea turns; she knows when she's being approached, by the feeling of blood and heartbeat or sometimes lack thereof, but her eyes widen in friendly almost-surprise, anyway, one of those little social cues she's learned to present without thinking much of it. "Well, well. I half-expected to see you in the flesh with one of those fringed biker jackets on."

She has the peculiar device in one hand, and when she lifts said hand to greet Steph, it's held between two fingertips.