Nostradamus, when the presentation is concluded, looks around at his fellow newcomers, their conscripted guides, and then his eyes light on one Skulduggery Pleasant. And lock. He stares, in a most impolite way, confused and puzzled and perhaps a little scared by the sight of that skeletal visage.

Look, his reaction's perfectly normal, for someone from a perfectly mundane world with no magic.

(Except, you know, visions of the future...)