[ for a good while, she still doesn't turn her gaze. almost as is wallowing in whatever dramatics she may have created all on her own. when she does turn, it's just slightly, just enough to catch the sight of this stranger at the edge of her peripherals. ]

I suppose it was a bit personal. [ she admits quietly. while at any other moment, and perhaps in front of anyone else at home, she may have practiced a bit more discretion— here in this place, she finds herself slightly more loose lipped. maybe later she'd blame it on the atmosphere, or perhaps the graveyard itself, but with more truth than she originally intended to muster, she answers. ]

You're correct. Maybe it's impossible even for me to be entirely unfeeling around the deceased. [ ... ] You may find it odd to say, but this place reminds me a little of home.