It's not a kedan voice—Una recognises that immediately. But not one she's familiar with, though something about it nags at the back of her mind. Or would, if she wasn't feeling very, very worried.

She puts both hands up in the air, palms out—nothing to see here, nothing up my sleeve.

"I wasn't expecting a foreigner," she says, a non-answer that is obliquely an answer, or a beginning of one.