The literate verses the illiterate.
The irony.
Still that momentary blink sent her mind into overdrive. Eyes shifted around his entire form, searching and looking. What had she missed? What was overlooked. Strong, strength, he could probably overpower her with ease. Where was her gun? Upstairs, safe, hidden. Was it a trick question? Was this what he was looking for?
"My pa taught me," she answered, "And he'd only be able to teach if ye be a one of the sorts that can talk to the ones on the other side." The gaze peeled away, her form moving over to her food. She poked at the contents then, before beginning to shovel in the greased contents into her mouth, "He's dead, if you ain't working that one out."
A firm slurp of the sauce, she gave an awkward look to the children as they ate their sweets. She had laid down her position with him; no doubt implying she had some understanding at least. And judging by the earlier mention from the children, it was no secret she was capable of some basic teaching, "I show the kids some stuff every now and again. Basic like."
Another mouthful, "Now, judgin' by that face, ye're looking to go 'nd learn 'em words. 'Cause whateffer reason. But, you ain't knowing where to start. So, question for ye," She stood, taking the food with her to him, "Treat this as a business transaction, then what'd ye give for the service? Better yet, why you want it?" She cocked her thumb back to the children, "See, me and their Ma got a deal. That deal means I keep an eye on 'em and if time allows give 'em some words. Get it into their head young. They get it better than people yours and my age."