She'd been waiting for him to finally bicker back, honestly, but the immediate intensity was past what she'd expected. Which just grew worse when the lightbulb gave way under ethereal buttmad, a prelude to Aradia's own temper snapping like elastic under the strain of sheer stupidity. "There's no way this'd ever count as fine--"

--except a new voice breaks in, and it's so unexpected that another lamp is sacrificed to the eldritch gods of cranky poltergeists in the blink of an eye. Poor pedestrians, they never asked for this. It was a pleasant day until the grumpy brigade showed up.

"Clara?" There's a cloud of auburn curls fogging the air as Aradia whips around to stare at the other ghost, conversation and other mentioned name completely forgotten in the face of startled confusion. "I-- um. Hi."