Jay stares at him, filling slowly with nervous dread. He doesn't like where this is headed. The clothes, the room, the blank, silent neutrality of it all, it's still grating at him, and he realizes it's because it feels like someone's version of afterlife.

"What do you mean, anymore?" he asks, syllables grinding out uncertainly. "What happened to you?"

He always asks the questions, even (especially) when he doesn't want to know the answers.