A chuckle left the young woman’s lips, a small blush sweeping across her pale skin. Nina had not been expecting Bartholomew to kiss her hand; the mask hadn’t come across someone with that particular set of manners in a very long span of time. “It is an absolute pleasure to meet you Bartholomew.” She chimed. “I have to agree though, the fact that our host seems to be death himself is… not something I find completely comforting. He doesn’t seem to want to harm any of us though. I have been here almost a full day, I think, and he has done nothing to worry me too dreadfully much.” Nina replies, her crimson eyes meeting Bart’s gaze. A smile still graced her lips, though it did not seem quite as insane as when these strangers had first arrived. His little joke had been funny, and so she giggled shortly before going quiet once again. 

Nina’s gaze shifted to the other person who had acknowledged Bart’s joke, she still did not know their name. “Oh, and who might you be dear?” she questioned.