Need glances about. Is there somewhere she can sit down without just lowering herself to the ground entirely? She doesn't feel the weary ache of a body that craves rest, but she's aware that this simulacrum of how she'd looked in life is taller and more imposing than the average here. Not as imposing as she would've looked in her youth, she's vaguely aware that she'd had a lot more muscle then, but it seems these people run to the skinny side.

Hm. Coughing, huh. Had this kid had a lung issue? It might explain a few things. Need puts that possibility on the mental slate. Either way she suspects she's the only one who's been dead for long enough to internalize that body-things like breath and heartbeat are maintained out of habit, not necessity. The one way she's ahead here, she supposes.

"You all right?" It's more a checking-in question than one with real worry to it, and she follows it up with another question. "What do you want to be called, boy?"