"Yeah," Elvis says, figuring there's no point in dancing around that subject, defensiveness alone keeping the corners of his mouth from dropping as he does. Whoever this kid is, it's not going to do any good to sugarcoat the subject, least of all when he isn't sure why it matters, or who Gwen was to him. It's different when he's at work, arranging funerals and talking to families, taking care of their loved ones. That's routine, and a hell of a lot more natural than someone vanishing into thin air, even when it happens too soon or unexpectedly, even when he should have seen this coming anyway. This, instead, leaves him with little sympathy to spare, not wanting to have to deal with someone else mourning her (not wanting to be mourning her at all). "How d'you know her?"