"...no, there's generally no talking," said Duo slowly, lifting his head to stare at a speaker. "I'm pretty sure I would've remembered Deathscythe talking back."
When in doubt, go with it.
Breathing was also good.
"Designation for these two is not dead. Other then that it's up to them." Dick's hand on his shoulder was a hell of a lot more reassuring then it should have been. Duo focused on that. Focused on breathing. Breathing was good.
He found a smile somewhere, tight and brittle, and forced his mouth into the right shape. Bent like a broken bow. "Guess you'd know," he said, looking up at Dick, "I should be grateful he's--I'm--whatever, just dead. Could be worse." A lot worse. "Better then a zombie. Or a vampire." He thought for a second, calling to mind one of the many stories he'd read and laughed over, once upon a time. "Or an Aztec. That'd be a riot."
Maybe he shouldn't be saying this. But what the hell else could he say?
Breathing would be good.
Maybe less shaking, but Duo didn't hold out much hope.