I nod. There is nothing else to say about this matter, but I cannot resist a little - devilment.

"Do you know," I ask, "who killed your friend, Westin?" I touch his cheek lightly, to bring up an old memory (http://estdeus-innobis.livejournal.com/381944.html?thread=9754872#t9754872). "You could have cared for one another, perhaps. But the sheriff buried him in the woods."