Re: The stairwell to the eighth floor, 12:03 AM.
She snorted as he denied drug use. It was possible he was really clean, though in her own experience, most people had tried it at least once. "Well, maybe you've got a brain tumor." She wasn't sure why she found that so funny, but the refuge of this "high" theory had put her in such a good mood that anything would have been funny to her.
Glancing over at him as he asserted his existence, she smiled. "Now that doesn't mean anything if you aren't. You could just be a very well-conceived figment of somebody's imagination." Stretching her legs out, she bent forward, crackles running up her spine. "But me? I'm pretty sure I'm real." Twisting to sit on the stairs sideways, her back braced against the banister, she shrugged. "Though I suppose I might not be."