"Ellen Hopkins..." Ellie repeated, nodding. Young adult. "My father wrote YA novels."
They'd mostly been about accidental demon summonings and succubi as representative of racism. Not the most ideal subject matter for sixteen and seventeen year olds, always -- but people had seemed to like his ideas well enough.
"Hi Sebastian," she replied, smiling again. "I'm not familiar. I'm not enjoying my stay, either." These words were blunt, but El had never been good at not being blunt, and there was no unfriendliness behind them. More a straightforward tiredness.
"My name is Eloise," she added as an afterthought. "Ellie."