[ No choice but to hang out with him, this is the sort of hostage situation that Lancer's okay with. He has his mood swings where he prefers quietude, the sort of days that drive him to go get revenge for a bunch of deer he never knew instead of hamming it up at a party. But these times evaporate with good company. He happily takes the cigarette with a quip of thanks, a click of the tongue. ]

They're a pain, don't bother.

[ Which he leaves at that. Not to be enigmatic—that's all there is to that story, mostly. More curiously, ]

Boudicca's been dead a while, hasn't she? [ To say the least. Same ballpark as him, about the same neighborhood. ] No one like that has any business raising corpses. Resurrection's for the living. [ If anyone... ]