"You - okay." He holds up his hands in passive acceptance. Whatever Daniel's deal is, it probably doesn't concern him. "Look, I was already dead, okay? Before it pulled me in - I don't remember being pulled in, just - I was gone and then I woke up here. Uh. There. In Manhattan." He shakes his head as if to excise the memory, pushing a hand through his hair. He's trembling a little. He's not corporeal anymore, why does his body still have to do these things?

"I dreamed about dying almost every night, but then this last time I woke up with the pain of it, you know, like the memory, like it was real. No blood or anything but it was real. My body shut down, I died, again. It's just this time I didn't - go. I'm still..." He makes a vague gesture. "I guess that's what you mean, huh."

Not dead in the conventional sense.

Well that's fucking great. Now what.

"What, am I a ghost or something?" he asks dully.