Miku met his stare with calm brown eyes and looked down at her fingers. There was something... disquieting about him, like an old house that creaked. "I wouldn't call it that. 'Disagreeable' sounds more as though you had a bad dinner. Aidou-kun," Miku lifted her eyes to his again and spoke in the softest whisper she had to offer, lest a nurse go by and hear her.

"Have you ever lost someone, I mean really, truly lost someone? Watched them die of fire or plague or suicide right before you? Chosen to nobly sacrifice themselves for the good of you? The emotion of wanting to do anything for those people, anything at all," Miku held her breath and thought of her mother for a moment, of her brother's softly-spoken words, of her father so alien to her and likely just as dead. "That's more than disagreeable isn't it? I suppose unless I saw this tattooed woman and was touched by her, I'd have no way of knowing if I'm truly correct, but... I think I am. It has to be something of no small value to you. Not some 'disagreeable emotion'." Miku stood up, and pushed her chair back in.

"And I told you, they didn't go insane and die. They turned into ash. God knows where the victims go, except that manor, and good luck extracting them from there. I'm going back to Ritsuka-kun now." The little photographer turned and started walking away. "So, please be careful, or so kindly throw me before that woman. I'm sure she has a story herself."