She lets out a very shaky breath when he tells her that not everyone becomes a ghost. So the world isn't just completely packed with unseen spirits, the end of their lives turned into some sort of endless wandering torment. That's, well, it's not the full comfort she had last week, but it's certainly something. She can deal with that. She doesn't really have a choice, after all. "I never thought it was the end," she tells him, not that she expects he was looking for clarification. Still, saying it out loud might be a help to her. "The human mind is too miraculous to be nothing more than a lump of fat and water and electricity. We're something more." She says it with conviction, but not force. She's certain. Whatever anyone else believes, whatever brings them comfort, she's certain again for herself.

"My death..." Still such a trippy thing to say out loud. "Well, I know there had to be at least two of them, and whoever was behind me was quiet." She's speaking slowly, because she's deciding. Does she want to know? Will it bring her closure? Will it just twist her up more inside? Thing it, she has no way of knowing until he tells her, and once he does, it can't be taken back.

So the real question is: does she want her blissful ignorance? The answer to that question has never been yes. Not once, in her entire life. Even when knowledge is pain, she's always wanted to know. Which means she does now, too. "What happened? How did I die? I mean--" She sighs. "I know how." She taps two fingers over her sternum. Obviously she knows what physically killed her. "Why did I die?" That's what she doesn't know.