"No, I got what you mean," Elvis says. Under better circumstances, he might have even managed a laugh for the explanation she offers, the sort of thing that, at least to him, speaks for itself. Now, he doesn't even come close, the wry tone of his voice serving as a substitute for any amusement. There's nothing funny about this, about any of it, or even about the fact that she's one of those do-gooder types like Anabelle was. (God, he's got to stop thinking about her in the past tense. She's not dead, no matter how much it feels a little like that.) "Well, that's — good, then. For you."