Becky scowls as her space is invaded, her scowl turning into a look of abject rage as she realised what exactly sat there, she narrowed her grey eyes. "Does it matter? A rose by any other name... and so on... and so forth." She sighs "Rebecca... I used it back in Victorian Britain, I liked it. I'd ask what brought you here, but I truly don't want to know..." She shakes her ashy hair. "Just don't get that demon stink on my clothes, it's a nightmare to get it smelling like clothes again." She grunts softly, closing the sketchbook, where she had sketched several random people... all with neck bolts.