[His mouth lifts in a half-smile at the sound of Natsuno's laughter. That, too, is a sort of instinctual reaction. It's strange how it's become familiar, too, like the ocean he's barely ever seen before this.

He knows the sound of his own laughter -- less so anyone else's.]

It's not the ghost that's half-baked.

[He lets the moment slide down with the weight of what comes next, though, shifting to it easily the way he always does -- easily as breathing, moving from the shape of one moment to the next. It's almost always easy for him.]

What kind of end did you want?