"A complete conversation may not be required. Ignoring her entirely, however, would be rather more rude than necessary or sensible."

There is, indeed, a presence in this room there should not be. The reversal of a mortal sensing a ghost; warmth instead of chill, breath in place of whispers. His voice lowers as he follows it. Like anything in the Mansion, it isn't an exact science.

"Why, both. They come and go as they want. At least two are here now; particularly the one whose once-living visage you were just admiring." Around that portrait, an invisible Ambrose Harper gives a soft, tired-sounding laugh.

The next figure they come across is not a husband, a bride, or a lost mortal. A be-hatted and rather skeletal gentleman steps out of the woodwork (not quite literally), tapping over the wooden floor with his cane. This earns a small noise of pleasant surprise from the Host. "So you've decided to drop in again, hmm?"

The Hatbox Ghost offers a nod in return. The sight of Noah catches his interest more than the Host's words, and his head vanishes with a flicker of spectral smoke from his shoulders. He isn't a tall spirit, forced into a slight stoop, and he lifts his hatbox higher just to get a better look.

"Yes, yes, I invited him in. You haven't seen another mortal nearby, have you?"