"You got killed?" That comes out a whisper. It's awful to think of someone with Jeff's face, someone nice with Jeff's face, getting killed at all, let alone like that. It doesn't occur to her to ask if that's where the scars are from. They seem too old for something that sounds recent.

She huddles into his jacket a little more, like somehow having something of his around her shoulders will ward off the fact that he's someone back from the dead. "I mean," she stops for a second, then smiles a little, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "That's kind of life anyway, right? Sounds a hell of a lot weirder here, but. Something between everything else is just kind of. You know, how it goes."