In return to his bow, Adrienne curtseyed deeply, her hand plucking her skirt as a theatrical princess would in an opera, as she employed all the skills their etiquette professor had drilled into them in the early days. In the end, it was such a deep curtsey she ended up wobbling a little, preemptively dropped her skirt and placed a hand on the nearby bookshelf to prevent herself from falling. Rising from her position, she gazed at the sword protruding from the ghost’s abdomen before reminding herself it likely wasn’t polite to stare for too long. Ghosts tended to be a bit touchy if the means of their death was overly obvious; Monsieur Wye’s certainly was!

“Quite enough for both of us, I’d reckon,” She replied, though she couldn’t help but note the rapier was impeccably made. It wasn’t jewel-encrusted as far as she could see, but the filigree designs on it certainly mirrored the styles in paintings that she usually saw when she went to the museums. “Although I do have a ring!” She added, her left hand coming up by way of explanation. “Which I didn’t have when we last met, I believe.” Not this particular one at least; from time to time she did enjoy wearing a more simple signet ring she’d obtained back in France.

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