Somehow, life is still so important even as the lines between living and dying blur. That's what ten thousand years does in a way, right? Live long enough and something's bound to change. "Thanks, not killing you either," Gideon gives a thumbs up with her off hand. She's not sure who would simply kill each other under these circumstances.

Staying light on her feet, watching him for movement, Gideon shrugs. "My excuse for what? Not killing you? Giving a damn about any of this?" she waves around them. "Shit, man, the dead still have feelings, and I really don't want to farm snow leeks." That sounds like hell as least as much as wherever is below the river. Where resurrection beasts (again, dead souls) go to die. Not that she's volunteering.