No one had told her, and now he'd just unceremoniously dropped that mess on to the floor, lacking anything nearby to pick it up with. Jasper shifted awkwardly, chewing the insides of his cheeks. He wasn't very good with emotional situations to start.
But he knew well the simultaneous anger and depression that came with finding out about your own premature death. He struggled with it still every day. He checked his pulse randomly throughout class or while he was walking or at home. Sometimes he purposely left his hand over an open fire on the stove or intenionally banged his feet into the ends of couches just to make sure he could still feel things, and touch them - to make sure he was still real, and still alive.
Finally, Jasper shrugged and said. "Yeah, no one bothered to tell me either for a while. Fucking great, isn't it?" He glared off to the side for a minute or so before adding, "Sorry you die. It's fucked. I'll die too if I ever leave this bloody place."