Blinking, Chrissy nods, arms wrapped around herself again as she follows him into the apartment. It gives her the weirdest sense of déjà vu — not half an hour ago, she was stepping into his trailer, uneasy in a whole different way — but it's hard to be too thrown by that with those words echoing in the air. She already knew she was dead; she would have even if she hadn't asked for confirmation earlier. Hearing him say it outright, though, you died, still hits hard, rattles her in a way she wouldn't quite have expected.

Until today, she wouldn't have thought that what happened to her would make any kind of difference to him, either. They didn't know each other at all. They still don't, really, though it doesn't feel like that. But it also probably changes things, for someone to have a person drop dead right in front of them, in their home. He said it was bad, and she's inclined to believe him.

"Yeah," she agrees, her voice weak and a little uncertain. Glancing around, because she feels like she needs to say something, she adds, "It's nice. Your place."