“I should hope not…and cold? Why should I ever feel that?” the stranger’s deep voice rumbled. The statement came as sort of an afterthought as he gazed over his hands again, not really taking in that someone was speaking directly to him. He was accustomed to talking, of course. There was always talking in the ether of the other realm. Always voices going this way and that way, some occasionally taking the time to address him or ask him silly little questions such as ‘where exactly am I?’ or ‘what exactly just happened?’, even questions silly enough to ask about being cold, apparently. Spirits just weren’t the same these days, but he somehow blamed technology for that.<br/><br/>As he turned his attention down to his arms before touching his chest again, it finally dawned on him that there was a very dense sort of object sitting near his side that wasn’t there before. His piercing gaze snapped directly over to Erin, as if startled by the person he had been talking to only moments before. As his eyes met hers, there was a strange sort of moodiness to that clear tone, as if he had some perpetual state of brooding lingered over him like he’d been born with some natural rain cloud drizzling above his head that had never gone away. Though this, itself, was an interesting little facet of the man, the expression on his face probably would have seemed more so; he looked absolutely confounded and possibly slightly put off by the fact that she was looking at him.<br/><br/>‘They just seemed so<span style="font-style: italic"> moist </span>from this side of things. How on earth did they go about actually looking at each other for too long?’<br/><br/>He adjusted uncomfortably against the bench, squirming just a little back against it as if attempting to put more space between them. He slowly raised his hand, never exactly looking away from her as he traced up over the side of his cheek and successfully managed to poke himself in the eye. However, like a seasoned wearer of contacts, his right eye barely twitched as he touched its strange  recently-used-sponge-like surface about two times before his arms fell stiffly back down in front of him, tense as a cat who had just figured out it was sitting in a pool of water.<br/><br/>“Oh, gods, I’ve got them too,” he murmured in a strained and unnerved sounding tone, looking up towards the sky for a moment as though he was perplexed and annoyed at it. It was a rather terrible discovery for him, but one that seemed to set in the fact he was actually here and this was actually happening all the same. His attention finally turned back to the woman sitting near him, and he studied her for what must have seemed like a small eternity to her but was only a few brief flicker of thoughts for him.<br/>His mouth opened a few times, but closed after every single one as he attempted to phrase a statement that was a question and one that sounded kind, which was out of his normal pool of vocabulary so it took some time to form. Finally, he leaned forwards a little and spoke.  “Could you possibly be so kind as to…tell me where am I?”<br/><br/>It was a rather humbling experience for Death, and he regretted asking the moment it left his lips. This was clear by the small wince that went across his features, yet another facet of mortality he wasn’t accustomed to. Unlike most people who could generally control how they were feeling and how that came to appear on their face, he had absolutely no idea how to nor that each and every little emotion was clearly being relayed through the surprisingly stretchy and adaptable skin and muscle strewn about the front of his skull. This, of course, left him easy easy to read as picture book which was both a good and a bad thing at times as he constantly looked confused and a little disgusted at any given moment.