He's not pleased, if anything, he's wary of her. At least someone is. So far everyone has been far too trusting, if she still lacked a soul, she'd probably be taking advantage of that. Not too late to start. Palamedes jumps straight to the point however, and she can respect people who are direct.

"It embraces you, so I suppose I can't be surprised that you can sense it."

Death.

"Reaper. Grim. Bargest. Black Shuck. Hellhound." She lists off the various names. "Some might call me an Angel of Death, and perhaps I once was. Michael does seem to insist on that."

She smiles.

"And since we're not playing around, what are you?"