Anita felt a bit like a doushewaffle for being a killjoy when she saw the light dim in Ken's eyes. He still seemed fairly happy, however the giddy delight that had been there was definitely gone. Better he learned the truth first, rather than later, though; Anita would never give up wanting to go home, mansion be damned, but several months with not a whisper of success was beginning to wear on her nerves. Still, the man had an upbeat demeanor Anita wished she could protect and keep all shinny-shiny. That kind of perkiness was positively unheard of in the necromancer.

"You have to close it and open it, again. Nothing I have has appeared while I was looking. Come to think of it, I've never actually seen someone arrive here. Hm." Shrugging gamely, she reached out a hand and clicked the door shut. When she re-opened it, a single blue apron was dangling from a cooperative hanger. Though she did not smirk at the pretty cloth better suited to baking cookies than belonging to a fellow predator, Anita's eyes were smiling as she gestured inside. "See?"