[ It's not his fault, she knows it's not his fault, but some small part of her wants to rage at Rhy. To scream that no, you're not fucking dead if magic brings you back to life, that's still alive. That she's really dead, just like everyone she ever knew in her life before Abraxas is really dead, and that none of them will ever be magically resurrected. That she is acutely aware that every moment she breathes in this world is just borrowed time.

It's maddening, to constantly be reminded that she comes from the worst possible version of an already pretty shitty world. She's met enough people from similar worlds to know that Earth, in the broad strokes she knows it, is just really not a great world to have been born into. Other than the people who came from her own home world, the only other person she's met who was really dead was Susan. Everyone else seems to get special loopholes.

The Singularity must sense her pain, her anger, because she suddenly feels like she's been wrapped in a particularly heavy blanket. And not just around her shoulders, but surrounding every inch of herself. Is this what being a burrito is like? It feels nice but stifling. Still, she can feel herself relaxing somewhat, soothed by the idea that Rhy may be alive, but he doesn't have this.

(She's sure she's a terrible person for thinking like this, but she can't bring herself to care right now.) ]

Do you want to be tied to him? I mean, the Singularity can't die, not like another person. And it also probably don't care how drunk you get.

[ She pauses briefly, then asks. ] Can you feel anythin' right now?