Naw man, sorry, sorry," Alex said, shaking his head. It probably wasn't the best idea to be anything but straightforward with someone tweaking out of their mind at the moment. "It was just a song I heard once." He unfolded himself from the cinder block step, all (generously) five-foot, seven-inches of him, and still recovering from a lifetime spent at the edge of starvation. He honestly looked like a strong wind might, while not blow him away, at least give him some trouble. He put his cup down and offered his half-smoked cigarette to the man. "If you want," he said.
Then he heard the mention of the dead once more - he thought he did, anyway, but the man was mumbling about something and it sure seemed like that could be it - and just let the tremor hit him, run through him and be gone. "No one's dead here," he growled softly, and then added, much more amiably (if grumpily): "Let's justĀ help you find home, dude. You know what your number is?"