Oh, God. Carver stills, uneasy. There's still so much he doesn't understand about this place, that he thinks maybe no one does. Even when he has answers, they don't often make sense.

His fingers twitch. He stills them.

"I think so," Carver repeats softly. He doesn't pull away from Bossie's hand. "But I don't know. Not for sure. I came back, didn't I?"

He remembers dying. That much is clear.