[He was told by certain friends that there are ghosts or spirits who linger in graveyards, trying to especially during these times when they can mingle with the coolness of the snow. Not that he believed it. He hasn't seen those friends in a long while these days.

Still. It was a shock to hear someone call him by his real name these days, his brain thinking spiritghostmonsterrevengepayback without really processing these thoughts. He stands up from where he kneels in front of the tombstones and whirls around, the bouquet of flowers half-raised as some sort of weapon. Or shield. He lowers it by a few inches when he registers who it is.]

Shijima.

[Now this is odd. But not something he'll complain because any familiar face these days is welcomed. Already he's cataloging her state, trying to figure out how bad it is. He tries to keep the worry out of his voice but it slips out just like the frost of his breath that escapes from his mouth.]

Isn't this a morbid place for us to meet up. It looks like you had an interesting thing going on before getting dropped here of all places.