[ When Nadia says no, Alan takes another slow sip through his milkshake straw, turning his head to regard their surroundings with her and then nod slowly. If which part he's nodding about is unclear, he probably doesn't know either-- or maybe it's everything: yes, maybe we died for real and this is what comes next, or yes, maybe this is just another fucked up piece of the very warped puzzle they're trying to fit together in total darkness, or... yes, he's okay.

Neither of them are that okay, but after a certain point, it's all relative. Has he been better? Yes, probably. Could he be worse? Too soon to tell. ]

Better now. I'm happy to see you. [ One comfort in this otherwise incomprehensible change of scenery. ] Something must have happened. One or maybe both of us must have done something to...

[ That train of thought disappears into silence. He doesn't want to think about hell, whether it's his fault this time that they're both here, or if they both made this happen. The rules of the universe are so head-splittingly complicated anyway. He sighs too, shoulders deflating slightly in a way that seems to steady him a bit more on his feet. ]

Every time I think things are finally starting to make sense, something like this happens. I don't know what that means, though. It's never been this different.