Which ones, he thinks, and wonders with a sudden twist in his stomach if he knows one, if that's the story —

He can look it up. Later. There would have to be obituaries. Christ. "Sorry," he says, brief but not unfeeling, and after a moment he nods. "Yeah. Okay. I see that. 'Spose I've always preferred moving. If I get too grounded I'll sink." He half shows his teeth, not quite a smile. That's the sort of thing he have found easier to say a few months ago. Just now it's all a little more complicated.