Did she like apples? That was a bizarre way to start a conversation. In fact, every bit of what he said seemed strange. Who just came up to a stranger and asked if they wanted to share fruit? Was that code for something? New slang? Betty liked to think she was on the up and up when it came modern turns of phrase, but apparently she wasn't.
At the same time, she couldn't ignore the feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. It was a comfortable feeling, a warm feeling, something she wanted to indulge and cover herself in. Betty took his hand, the dead man beside her long since forgotten, even as he tried to make himself known by waving his hand in front of her eyes and clearing hit throat.
Though, it was arguable as far as if he had anything to clear, since he was no longer in possession of a physical throat.
"My name is Betty," she said, albeit breathlessly. Yes, there was that sensation creeping over her in entirety and it was forcing her to loose her focus on what she'd been doing. For the consummate professional that she was, she was forgetting herself in favor of spending time with this stranger.