No, of course she didn't know what to do; this wasn't her job. Ford didn't know what to do, and it was very much his job. He could have camped out in front of the lift for hours trying to find something she liked, and he may or may not have been successful in enticing her out — but that was not particularly useful at the moment, when Miss Vane needed to get back to work and could not exactly use the stairs.

"Hm," he said. "Give me a minute. Watch the lift, if you would," he asked, dashing off to the nearby door for the Spirit Division offices. Miss Vane had already done much more than what he would have expected a passerby to do, in this situation, but she didn't seem to begrudge helping him a bit. Besides, if Isabelle flew off in another direction while he was searching through his desk, and he had no idea where she'd gone, he'd be back to square one.

"So — this might not work," he said as a sort of disclaimer upon returning to the hallway, holding a glass bottle with a long, thin neck and a bulbous base. "This is, ah, new... and it hasn't exactly been tested yet," he admitted. "It's supposed to hold ghosts. And if it doesn't work, the worst that can happen is she flies by and screams at us again, and the lift is clear," he said optimistically.

He did need her help again for this part, though, so hopefully the way he'd described it gave her at least a little faith in its abilities. "I think I can go in and frighten her out," he said. "But, ah — do you think you could hold it? And put the stopper in if she goes inside?"