[ there's a small smile, weak on her face, that implies she's not surprised at all to hear that response.

in return: ]

You'll have to tell me about yours too. You're not the only one who wants to know.

[ there. straightforward and honest, if not slightly less sentimental than she feels. she pauses, uncertain if she'd gone too far with that.

no, this is already farther than she'd ever told herself she'd go. milla swore to herself to be apathetic, and look how that was turning out. was she wearing herself out more by fighting it? who knows. she's too tired at this point to try. ]

... Let's move. If we're going to spill life stories, I at least want to find a way back while we do it.

[ or. death's story? hah. it's a tad bitter, but she doesn't wait for his response as she turns to move. it's mostly so she doesn't have to look at his face and think about how she didn't have anything better to say besides "sorry" for what she was shown, or how completely incapable she is then and now, whether it be with the things she had to do or the things she should know to say.

how she probably won't even know what to say when he tells her what happens, too. ]