Being polite is always a good choice when one does not know to whom they speak. Her eyes lift to the pictures on the wall and she sees the one Abigail mentioned to her earlier, in it's place above the fireplace. She is such a tiny thing, but she has spirit.

Her gaze shifted back to Sirius and she glided across the floor in even, graceful steps, unhurried, lifting one hand. "You may call me Ms. Sommerset." She offered. It was the name she had given Abigail Widdowson and not knowing how many dark witches were about, it was best to keep a lid on how many people could summon her for now. There was plenty of time to find witches with potential and offer them such a jewel.

Being fae meant she had no idea Sirius was any kind of escapee. He was simply another human with a faint feel of magic. Albeit a polite one. Mab could approve of politeness when it served.