That drew Mona completely and immediately out of her vacant gaze, and her eyes fixed on Kit with alarm. "What?" she asked sharply. Her nod was heavy and uncomfortable and one of those memorized lists of information Mona collected (to use as party tricks or calming techniques at a future date) was rising to the surface.
"The canonical five:," she said, looking back to the empty space across from them and feeling a shiver. "Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddowes, Mary Jane Kelly. The unconfirmed: Rose Mylett, Alice McKenzie, the Pinchin Street torso, Frances Coles."
It shouldn't have calming in this instance, but the recitation of learned names and the dragging up of information was working for her just as well right then as it would have done in a crowded mall. Or, at least, it would have calmed her if Kit wasn't saying what she thought he was saying.
"He's alive?" she whispered, looking at Kit. Her eyes were shining with frightened tears and the shadows around them seemed like they were closing in. "How? What- what is he?"