It's getting late (well, early) and her shift is almost over, which is honestly a little disappointing; this endeavour is still fairly novel to her, and she still does not feel entirely comfortable sleeping somewhere she doesn't own. An apartment or house is high up on her list of priorities. She's considering staying awake during the day to browse around the network for leads — the modern age never fails to entertain her in that way, the image of lying buried in dirt in a coffin and scrolling through your Blackberry to check your Facebook — when the door jingles, she looks up, and blinks.

Oh — him, she remembers. Hal. The kindred-but-not-kindred, she has a better understanding of what that feels like, now, having immersed herself in Mafaton where most of the other cruorvores are not like her. (Then again, of those who are like her, they are still not like her. In many ways.) She still can't quite place him and she is loathe to start poking into people's heads without permission as it's quite rude, but it is awfully tempting.

Nuray smiles, doing her best to look relaxed, friendly, not frightening. "Hello, Hal, it's nice to see you again. What can I do for you?" The words as she says them are slightly awkward, foreign almost, like she has never been in any position to say them in her life and is slightly amused by doing so. She has the appearance of someone who is playing some elaborate game of make-believe.