Ah, the sound of Mo laughing! It was like wind chimes clanging together on Satan's front porch. He was pleased to hear such a rare sound, however, and he chuckled a little too as he picked the box of chamomile tea. That particular type was soothing, and good for dealing with insomnia. His eyebrow quirked, a show of amusement as he poured hot water into the two mugs, letting the tea steep. Momo was dead, really? That was news to him. He saw dead people all the time, and she wasn't one. This wasn't The Sixth Sense. No twist ending.
"You seem plenty alive to me," he stated. "Or did that have some sort of double meaning?"