"I actually do not know. Something fancy, maybe Italian," Ava shrugs, because she's never really partaken in a fine dining experience and so all she really knows are the names of various dishes. And the ghosts aren't really answering her, but at least nothing corrects her mangled pronunciation.

"I fought somebody in an overly pretentious restaurant once, giant chandelier. Think it got closed because the owner was caught for shady black market tech deals, but also maybe health code violations. Weird weasel looking man. Anyway. Point being," Ava steps closer, herself and a plate simply passing through each other as if neither seemed to care. "I do this rather easily. It's how you speak or breathe or your heart beats. I just do."

She grabs for the next plate that goes by, a rather innocent looking soup. And holds it out to the woman. "Really, it's better to just eat than throw a fit over it like a child that hates broccoli."