It was sweet, the way Hal spoke about her, to her. Sweet and sad because as much as she knew he meant well, Alex just couldn't let herself think about stuff like that, not for herself.
"I'm a ghost, Hal," she smiled somewhat sadly. "I don't think grand love stories and perfect, true, movie style love is exactly in my future what with the whole dead thing." Stuck in the same clothes permanently, unable to be seen by most people. "Pretty sure the only one seeing the real me is going to be you, since most people won't be seeing any kind of me, real or not." And he'd seen her breaking down after her death. Didn't get much more real than that.
But still. How could she compete with some hot lady vampire?
"Well, then I'm very glad you've met her," she managed to keep her tone even. "Hopefully she can keep helping you." Succeed where she and Tom hadn't been enough. God, that was a fucked up swirl of emotions, jealousy that someone else might be what Hal needed combined with relief that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.
"Okay, fuck, if you put it that way," she frowned, trying to put herself in Mitchell's shoes. She so nearly had been. "What actually happened to Annie though? I mean she was a ghost too, the explosion couldn't have killed her. Do you know? What happens to ghost after I mean." The men with sticks and rope. The doors. Evil fucking Morris dancers. Scared the shit out of her and still she'd been prepared to take Oliver's place with them.