"Yeah..." Toshi was still going with the theory that matching another person's mannerisms made it easier to relate, so she thought it might be a good idea to say something equally brainless. "Nice clothes are nice," she said, and regretted it immediately. It sounded so dumb. Had she sounded like that, before?
But then, she'd been better at making conversation before, too. "Me too," she stated as she thought this. She kept on with her sorting, letting herself slip for the umpteenth time into thoughts of whether it would have been better if none of it--none of the beach or the Personas or the deaths--had ever happened. "Pointless," she chided herself under her breath, and then reminded herself she wasn't alone in the room. "It was always easy before," she said, more out loud. "At home, I always knew what to talk about, and here..." She didn't want to force herself to say I never actually talked about anything worth talking about, so she let the sentence go unfinished. This, too, was depressing.
"Well," she attempted, "forget that. It's not important."