Rorschach looks behind him as he leads her into the spacious kitchen. He spends a lot of time here. Smell is one of the few senses he has left that has never dimmed. Though he can't eat anything, he likes the scent of food cooking. Especially the baked goods. Oh, he'd sell his soul for just one taste of something like a cookie or brownie.

"Used to it." The gravelly voice that comes out of the ghost is deep and raw, rusty nails and sharp glass coated over a throat. He points out the kettle sitting on the stove and then takes a seat. What comes next in an introduction? Oh yes, names. Right. She's already given him her's, so he should do the same. "Rorschach. Resident Hillingdon ghost."