Marcie faintly heard Much from her phone on the floor, and said, “No, he was alone,” kind of faintly. He was definitely alone now on his journey to Styx or wherever a god went when their body died. She slowly stood herself up and found a towel, carefully beginning to put herself together so she was presentable. Comfortable jeans, casual jumper, hair in a french braid that came over one shoulder to keep it out of the way. The next job was cleaning the bathroom. She dumped the wet hoodie into the bath, and went about scrubbing down every surface she could see, to make sure every tile was shining clean, not a single spot of blood remaining. Her bedroom, though, she did not touch. If she had to go though, she skirted around, half expecting the dead body to grab for her if she got too close.
She just had to keep moving until Much got there. Once Much was here, things would make more sense. Hopefully.