"I bet," said Arla rather sadly. It was kind of nice to know that a group of people who called themselves Morlocks were still alive, but it just reminded her of things she didn't really want to think about. "Anyway."
She cleared her throat, looking up at the ceiling. Now that they'd run out of things to talk about----which was easy when you were just sitting with someone and not really doing anything----it felt a little bit awkward. Pleasant, but awkward. She attempted, a few times, to drag on the conversation.
"So! How's your..."
"What about the ..."
"Did you ever..."
But all the attempts ended up dying and Arla was floundering. She wasn't ever good at the small talk, David knew that, and then she ended up with: "Have you ever killed someone?"