He only responded with a Why not?
but the truth was that he didn't feel alone. The heaviness in the back of his mind was there just like it had been there for the last... had it been two years already? He supposed it had been (he's never leaving you). Sometimes it was just endless cackling for no reason and with no trigger these days; sometimes it was just a second set of breathing. Sometimes it was disturbing silence, but the presence was still there, like a creature in the corner, watching. Laruku stared at Iskata with nothing in his eyes -- even before he'd lost his vision, the emotion had fled from them anyhow.
Do you have a reason to be here?
In that particular location? On earth? On their plane of existence? He didn't know what he was asking (he never did, and it didn't matter). They were words, and they rumbled dully from his throat. She would reply with more, and eventually they would both tire of the exercise.