Her eyes widen slightly in surprise when he speaks to her in Russian rather than the English they'd previously been conversing in. Which is, perhaps, a little unfair on her part.

Something in his voice draws her spine up straight, shoulders back, shedding the casual air she's adopted as camouflage over the past several years. She doesn't immediately notice - involuntary and voluntary reaction are still a tangle of thorns in the back of her mind. Perhaps they always will be.

"Newcomer," she allows in the same language. It rankles a little to admit to being caught off guard and in the dark, but of the two options presented, she's certain it's the safer one to choose. Then, because the question itself raises questions of her own, "Is this normal? Do people just get lost in your ceilings?"