"Yeah," Stacia agreed again. "That's the problem with the dead, isn't it? All you can do is make do."

She props her chin against her palm, resting her elbow on the table again.

"Makes you wonder what people will say about you after you die, doesn't it?" she says. "How they'll remember you?" She flashes a brief grin. "I mean, besides the fact I recently told our werewolf corpse handler to toss my pretty white girl body onto the lawn of some shitty company we want investigated by human cops."