Uh-huh. [sounding completely nonplussed about it.] Hm? [his tone perks into curiosity as the man across from him drops a few interesting notions. he leans away and turns his head to swallow the room, taking in all these strange sight and sounds from people who technically don't exist? all but ghosts.] How'd they die? [darkness, emptiness, neither of those exude their pungent shivers from these laughing bodies and gambling faces. they eat and drink without a care, drenched in fancy clothes and money. staying here causes their rot... he wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.] Pathetic.

[abandoning the crowds, he returns his attention to the table, finding nothing too dramatic about the news. wouldn't be the first time he's encountered a world which poisons the brain. likely these idiots aren't even aware of their own slide towards compliance and desperation. good to know at least. why are these kinds of questions not on the cards?

his opponent's(?) steel-hued eyes seem to bulge within the claustrophobic glass of his helmet, swollen masses under equally receding forehead and mouth. until he lowers or raises his head, causing his face to bulge respectively as he takes his time studying his figure. curious guy, isn't he.]

Nothing at all. [he's tone mixes resignation with satisfaction.] Sounds like weight.

[pressing down and crushing, refusing to move despite scrambling beneath to shove its suffocating pressure off. or the opposite, where everything feels like it's unraveling and a single breath's enough to break apart forever. hot and cold.]

What are you? You're not taking anything off or putting anything on.