[She's dragged a laugh out of him - soft and muted as it may have been - and there's a certain easing of the tension in the room, no longer leaving her with the sense that she could cut the unease with a knife. It'll do, and she slumps forward a little in her chair, elbow resting on the table, chin dropping down into her open palm.]

Well, fuck. Looks like we're stuck figuring out our own problems, doesn't it.

[She huffs out an exaggerated sigh.]

But if I happen to hit upon a wonder cure for the stuff life throws at us, or you know, just figure anything out at all, I'll be sure to let you know. Until then, maybe we can get away with just muddling through. And take some time out from all this heavy shit to laugh at bad taxidermy when it all gets a bit much.