Arche hesitates. She knows a polite dismissal when she hears one, and if the Ferryman is being honest then something distressing has been learned that they, perhaps, want or need to ask the other souls about. And yet she cannot help but notice that only enough of the question was answered to avoid implying anything about the theoretical final state of a person in this hereafter.

Part of her wants to press. Part of her just wants to go cry.

In the end she does neither. Arche bows with a sigh and trudges back towards the shelters, shoulders slumped. Wishing she had her staff at least. It would be a comfort, in this difficult time.