[ Those false lashes of hers will tickle his neck once more; she blinks, languidly, as she absorbs his words and processed them. Humming, she brushes her fingertips along one of his upper arms. ]

Hn. I imagine we've all closed ourselves off, in some way, in the simple interest of functioning beyond death.

[ Well, it seems the alcohol has made her rather sympathetic to his situation. Even a touch tender! She can't help but snerk a bit at herself. ]

Rather than put up a fight of any sort, she resigned. She failed you, darling. A waste of a woman, truly.