[If Harrow was a laughing sort of person, this is where she'd laugh. But she's really not, so she just stares. There's a quagmire of belief swirling in her brain, much of it having been stepped on in the last year of her life, much of that still stuck to God's boot — but there's one thing she's very sure of.]
No.
[Her tone is flat, dismissive. As she glances around at the deck, the bodies, and so on, she clicks her tongue in a dry mouth.]
The afterlife isn't so comfortable. You would know.
[And then her attention snaps back to FF, eyes narrowing, less in surprise and more in what looks like exhaustion.] You're dead?
no subject
[If Harrow was a laughing sort of person, this is where she'd laugh. But she's really not, so she just stares. There's a quagmire of belief swirling in her brain, much of it having been stepped on in the last year of her life, much of that still stuck to God's boot — but there's one thing she's very sure of.]
No.
[Her tone is flat, dismissive. As she glances around at the deck, the bodies, and so on, she clicks her tongue in a dry mouth.]
The afterlife isn't so comfortable. You would know.
[And then her attention snaps back to FF, eyes narrowing, less in surprise and more in what looks like exhaustion.] You're dead?