Rosario doesn't believe in ghosts, and she laughs easily as she leans into the hug. (It wasn't so long ago that Rosario didn't believe in saints or gods or faeries, either, and the very-real Saint Patrick's made a couple of remarks about the existence of ghosts that would make her stomach lurch if she examined them for any length of time, but – perhaps fortunately – she's had way too much else going on to revisit the thought.) She gives Lyra a squeeze before releasing her.
"I'm good," she says, and she says it without a hitch of reservation. Things are good. Not perfect, not great, but— pretty good. She and Merlin are okay again. Apollo's eased off. Finals are over, and when Henry suggested they celebrate, she surprised herself by not immediately recoiling at the concept of socialising. And tonight she's got her girl and a blood moon and a bottle of cheap red, so yeah, she's good. "I got wine and donuts and binoculars, so we fully equipped."