The kick connects because she doesn't anticipate it, but Ava's leg instantly flickers away from the contact. She doesn't say anything, but the 'don't touch me' is clearly spelled out across her stressed expression. Not enough to be angry, not enough to retaliate because she knows no harm was meant. But it's a boundary she wants established.

"With marmalade," Ava adds, to move past the tension. See, she's living.

Giving her name early at least ensures that the rest of this interaction isn't hinging upon it. If they continue to eat together it's purely by choice. She swallows, looking at the offered hand. It's a polite gesture, a social norm she's aware of but usually does not end up on the receiving end of. But at least unlike the playful foot bump it's something she's been given the option to accept. So she does, hesitantly, with a hand that seems to tremble despite how steady she tries to keep it. She doesn't feel quite all there.

"Some people call me Ghost. A bit cliched, if you ask me." But fitting.