[There's no answer at first, neither aloud or in Hythlodaeus's thoughts.

He hadn't even heard the last half, so preoccupied is he with the first.]

Why would...

[The words are but a faint whisper.

He knows why a grave might exist for a child.

He wishes he didn't.

And he forces a smile and tries not to dwell on such horrifying thoughts.]

A caretaker... I quite like that. And I wouldn't be opposed to taking up such a profession myself while I'm here. Is that what you do where you're from?