"--I might turn off my visual feed." But he wouldn't stop recording it. He set down on solid ground, something about Nygma's affect prompting him not to hover, stood hunched forward with the mask tipping this way and that to follow the pacing.

Something was different, here. Whatever had happened to him had--changed him, or perhaps just rearranged him, something just under the surface that he didn't much like but knew better than to ignore. The compliment, though, he didn't seem to quite acknowledge, didn't seem to know how to acknowledge.

"Yes. I would." Circled, he turned to look over his shoulder, the small room seeming smaller, suddenly, and if Ghost hadn't been able to leave at any moment, he was sure he'd find the mild uneasiness harder to suppress.

"Karla isn't working in your best interest?"