There are certain things that had changed in her after the Other Place. Rosemary makes her sneeze, now, and walking through a pine-grove makes her skin itch. Silver leaves her with a rash. All of those things are quite irritating. Less irritating is the odd little glimmer that she can catch sometimes from the corner of her eye, hovering about a cat or a songbird or a child sitting on the side of the street. She sees the little glimmer now, a moment before she hears the tapping. And she knows the bird is no real bird.

Genius, Kitty. As if it weren't enough that it's a bloody bird knocking on your window like it wants to sell you a bit of insurance. Yeah. Obviously it's not a real bird.

Still, it's a rather unexpected thing. Spirits haven't had much to do with her since she'd left London. Every once in a while, there'll be one hopping along a power-line, or slinking along in the shadows, squinting as it tries to make sense of her and her aura and her otherworldliness. But they don't come and talk to her, even though she'd smiled at them, trying to indicate that they're welcome.

So it makes her a bit nervous, that knocking, because it can spell something very bad. She knows that well. But here in Berlin, miles away from London, she can't imagine anyone much wants to kill her, and if they do then it's not as though she'll stop it by keeping the window closed and locked.

So. She steps over to it, and pulls the window open with a raised eyebrow.

"Come in, then," she says, stepping back to allow the spirit passage inside. "I'd offer you a bit of tea, but - well."