She adjusts her bag on her shoulder, the leather of her jacket creaking slightly as she shifts, her head tilting slightly as she looks at Joker in her odd, assessing way. Her fingers have resumed their typing along the strap of her bag, it's less poignant than it was before, more absent and distracted, a subconscious habit almost. For all the Aberdeen is meant to be inconspicuous about her abilities, she's not very good at it (nor does she try very hard).

"You're not either," she says matter-of-factly and though her voice doesn't seem to fluctuate towards either the good or the bad this is definitely a plus as far as Aberdeen is concerned. She then lapses again into one of her long, prolonged silences, her eyes flickering down and then up again to get another once-over of Joker in his uniform before she ticks her head in the direction of the lifts.

A silent, let's go.