[ he almost laughs at the look on her face and the solemn agreement that he can take the jacket off. shaking his head, he shrugs it off, setting it neatly on the chair before he finally climbs back over to sit on the bed. he shuffles until he's sitting up, leaning against the headboard. ]

[ then he frowns, smile disappearing. he's not surprised by the shift, but he does find he misses the lighter back and forth, especially because he doesn't have an answer, doesn't like thinking about it. ] I thought so. But it is hard to imagine a process by which we could then be resurrected. Maybe if we ever figure out how people come to this world, we will get our answer.