Do you really think we're all getting a second chance?

[Sincerely. She wonders. Has her body count reset? Did that fucking ouija board disappear from the shop now that it's been used? Can she barrel down there and bring someone else back, make herself fucking useful for once?

Camille sucks in a breath. Her hand goes to her eyes, averting her gaze from the other woman. It's too sweet. Too kind for her, this open affection. Solid reassurance. It pulls the tears from her eyes too quick to stop, fat drops buoyed to breakneck speeds under their own weight.

She's older than most of them. She's fucked up, so many times. Maybe she's not as old or as desperately hopeless as she could be, but among the dead it's a contest she wins by a mile.]

We've lost kids, Karlach. We lost good people. The fucking dog? But I get to just...pop back up? Not even one week later?