[“Whelk.” “Caitlyn.” And there’s so much more to a person than even the names they give for themselves.]

I’m the last person who should be ferrying anyone anywhere. [Dry, but… inquisitive, now that the possibility’s floated by. A hand lifts, knuckles by her chin, as her eyes flick away, thought to thought, and back to the dead man again.]

You strike me as very much alive. [Half musing aloud.] But I suppose in classic stories of the reanimated dead [“classic” specified for… reasons], the lost need to find peace.

[Half a joke, too. Invasive questions as a means to that? Hardly....]