Hearing a voice that was probably calling out to him— because most people seemed keen on making sure that he was okay, or at least asking to check if he was, even if they should have known that he would never really be okay now— James turned to look briefly over his shoulder, expression even as he looked the woman from head to toe. She wasn't anyone he could remember seeing before, and she didn't use his name. Maybe she was someone new.

Just a few weeks ago, he would've greeted her with a smile, let her know his name. Those days, it felt like too much to even speak up, most of the time. So James turned back to his letter again, staring down at the lines there.

He nodded, belatedly, in response to the question.