[Natasha doesn't have the campfire to blame for this. It could the the sound of the ocean or the first stars starting to flitter and glint on the far horizon. It makes their conversation seem more intimate, more private than it really is when she's sitting on the prow of a busy boat.

Or maybe it's just Finn's questions, the way he words them so specifically that cuts close to a nerve.

She bites her lip briefly, grounding herself before she answers.]

Yes, other humans think about that stuff. Not all of us, and not all of the time, but...

[She trails out, considering what to say to that. Does she want to admit how exactly she's thought those things. There are answers to Finn's question that aren't suitable for a kid, even one who's clearly feeling out some deep, dark places.]

I think about that. I think sometimes that I could fill a graveyard with the people I've been.

[It's hard to shrug that off.]

Some of them you might be better off not knowing.