"I don't think you get to decide what I am, shinobi." She schooled her features into a slow slide from 'upbeat' to 'slightly annoyed'. "I'm pretty sure if you ask oh, say, anybody who knows me, they will faithfully report that I am, indeed, a witch. Spells, potions, curses, the whole hurrah." She pulled her kiseru from a seal embroidered on the inner lining of one sleeve with a small spark of chakra, in desperate need of something to take the edge off this situation. She brought the long, thin pipe to her lips and lit it with another spark—a shinobi parlor-trick that further flaunted her non-civilian nature—and smoothly puffed the perfumed blend of tobacco she preferred.

After a period of carefully timed nonchalance, she blinked, as if remembering something. "And you still haven't told me what you want with me, besides a debate on the validity of my life choices. Apparently."