The way the figure rolls their hand, indicating no particular preference, leaves Monique to decide for herself what she prefers. Nemeia seems to default to the method, though their lips are expressive, as are their facial expressions, especially as their eyes flit and glance over towards the bar.
"I tend to stay in and busy." they explain in the telepathic equivalent of low conversation, broadcasting in full, rather than narrowly for Monique alone. "You may call me Nemeia, or by any of the titles that the hunters seem to favor. I happen to be fond of Beloved by the Cosmos, but alas..." they continue, trailing off with another roll of the wrist to match the trailing 'speech'.
"I can say that I've heard a few mentions of your name, usually from the mouths of young fools who think that flattery takes the form of comparing one to another because of like abilities. Especially when the 'tie-breaker' is dessert." An expression of amusement, the kind that is edged with annoyance, touches the figures features, the glow of the cosmos under their skin twinkling, brightening briefly, before they turn their attention back to Monique.
"What do you think of the talk of the hour, of this potential mission?" they ask of Monique.