[Different. That word makes him tense, expecting her to start describing grotesque monsters, twisted bodies that were barely a shell of the person they were before. But what she says ends up being more weird than horrifying.]

Well, if a younger me shows up, tell him not to go back. [He scoffs softly in laughter.]

Another dead reality? I don't get it. How does a reality die?

[He swishes his lips, looking down at his tea and stalling for a moment by taking a sip. He doesn't really look at her when he speaks, seeing the things he's talking about, replaying memories.] They usually come back... changed, mindless, stronger. Sometimes it's claws and teeth, sometimes they're three times the size they were in life... with claws and teeth. Tentacles. And they're usually a bitch to kill. Re-kill.