[Zinda isn’t sure what to think about the whole swamp gas comment, but it makes her laugh, so it doesn’t hurt.

She nudges his sad Nandor corpse with her boot one more time, then sits down on the ground by him, allowing him a polite amount of distance as she follows his gaze upward.]

That’s good at least. I wouldn’ wanna insult your pops, even if he looks like that.

It might be easier if you start fessin’ up now. I don’t intend on dying. And I’ve seen some pretty dark shit myself.