[ The whistle gets a tiny grin from Matt, crooked and pleased. A vote of confidence is at least as good as a full-length mirror, especially since Matt's used to wearing pants and this getup is more of a robe deal. ]

I'm good, [ he confirms. ] I like to walk. [ And it's not like he has anywhere else to be, except these places where the fate of the cosmos will evidently be decided. Matt takes a bite of jerky. ] And my mystery benefactor's seen fit to supply me with protein, so ... onward and downward.

[ Matt is, however, looking up every chance he gets. Gazing into the hyper-dark that makes the distant celestial bodies gleam brighter, he has the same feeling that magic and intimacy often evoke: a greedy sense of wanting to memorize each particular so it can be summoned again later. To date, he has never succeeded at this. But even the end of the world can't stop him from trying. ]

... What were we talking about before? [ he says, after a long beat. ] Ghosts?