[Yeah. Yeah. That's exactly the type of reaction she was dreading. She doesn't have to stare at his face in order to get the picture. Tone alone is enough for her.

Still, she's nothing if not a broken record. Making a show out of pretending to pick a piece of dirt out from under her acrylic nails, she glances up at him like there's nothing wrong with this situation. One, two, three seconds—she realizes there's something way off about him. And then she scrunches her nose. Her nose with very un-Junko-like freckles. Oh, man. Time to examine her nails some more.]

"Not right"? Is something wrong with your head? There is, isn't there? You already said my name.

[Junko's name. Not her own name. Oh, boy. Oh, gosh.]

Hey, don't tell me you're one of those creepo fans who can't accept my glamour shots are touched up.

[Psuedo-indignant babbling might be her way of compensating.]