Fair enough. People who turned their back on Ghostface tended to end up with a knife in their back. They moved their pace up so their new acquaintance could keep an eye on them, and there was a muffled snort beneath the mask at the query and a short nod. That had to be it. Obviously.

As for the secret identity...
Their head canted, wanting to know more about why exactly the man thought it wouldn't work for them. No one in Woodsboro had figured it out. But of course they had no way to ask without revealing more of themself.

Instead they gestured to the man and splayed their palms in inquiry, trying to coax out a name.