Someone else walking in the space in the small hours of the night is equally unexpected on Alexandrie's part. The turn of her head toward Saoirse's voice is quick, its corresponding startle rabbit-like, something glinting in her hand in the moonlight for a brief moment before disappearing again. She pulls her robe more tightly around herself and shakes her head.

"I... no," is the response. When she is staring emptily and walking just to walk, there is little in the way of a woman to disturb. And distractions are welcome.