[ His pockets quickly fill, so with little shame in exposing a whole inch or two of his snow white and questionably scar-covered abdomen to Sylvian he pulls the bottom hem of his shirt out to create a billowed scoop. It's much better at holding the flowers. He should be so fortunate that this cemetery isn't very large, morbid as the thought goes in both directions.

Nanu listens mostly quietly, interjecting occasionally with a thoughtful 'huh' or parroting the last most ridiculous sounding thing as if he hadn't heard it right, all while slowly walking around the rest of the cemetery and bequeathing each empty grave with a flower. He would even offer some to Sylvian with a gruff, Here, make yourself useful, kid. Don't need anyone haunting us in addition to everything you've been talking about. when it became apparent what he was doing.]

Sounds like I got my work cut out for me here. What a pain.

[Final flower deposited, Nanu permits himself a well-earned break by leaning also a bit too casually on the opposite end of that same grave marker. His eyes are a bit sharper on Sylvian now, suspecting his answer of was on a train, then woke up here wouldn't be any more useful of an answer than he's gotten from any of the other folks trapped here he's had weeks to be acquainted with already. No, he's probing. As he should, too.]

You wanna' know about that name I was calling out--Acerola.

[ Cripes, weeks-- is he going to be stuck here that long too...? ]

Sort of my niece, not by blood. She's got a thing for ghosts and folk tales. She'd probably love all this nonsense.

You got none of your own, right?