The tone of his voice sends a thrill through her spine, hair standing up on the back of her neck, and it takes all she has not to react — to not put a hand on her pistol, not stiffen at the chill. Instead, she retains her composure, and shifts her line of sight, locking eyes with Nihlus as he turns, jaw set firmly, almost stubbornly. After a moment, she lets her hand slip back down to her side.

"If this is the real deal, then it'll have to list my death and rebuild." The words come out almost casually, but the statement itself is one that will never cease to be bizarre to her — an impossible specter forever in the corner of her mind's eye, seizing on to every gnaw of doubt.

I'm still me. It's a worn strip of a mantra she unfurls in her mind whenever it comes up, the sentiment placating just long enough for her to escape those dark waters. She continues, without missing a beat.

"And see if there's anything listed for April 10th, 2172. That should be enough to convince me, at least."