[This is not real, this is not real, this is not really happening. There is not a skeleton putting his skull on in front of Will. There is not a skeleton talking to him. There is not a bizarrely finely-dressed skeleton dallying in the snow. This cannot be real.

And then he goes and pulls out a rib like he does it all the time, and Will finds himself almost incapable of believing he's not asleep. It's too cold, though. He can't be bundled up in a bed with dogs and blankets and still be this cold. He's not sick anymore. It doesn't make sense.

None of this makes sense, but good Lord, does his dog ever look pleased by this change of events. Up she goes on her hind legs, tail wagging. Yes, she wants to play fetch with a dead man's rib. Yes, she doesn't even appear to be bothered by it.

This is really happening, and Will finds himself struck dumb. Fortunately he's not rude enough to just reach out and touch him. He's all but had rudeness beaten out of him.

As well as anything that makes sense because what the hell is going on?]

Dead men can tell you just about anything if you know how to look. [He can find footing with a skeleton. Yes, he can do this. They can talk about dead and being dead and all sorts of things that are dead. And dogs, apparently, since he seems to be so good with them.] She's good at fetch, by the way. She'll bring it back every time.

So. You been here long, uh...what's your name?

[If it's something the Dead Tuxedo Roberts, Will is going to leave.]