Renault nods thoughtfully. "Fair enough," he says. "Of course, you might not want that one advertised if we don't manage to pull this off. I mean, if the giant taloned foot of the undead is to stamp on humanity's face forever, then you probably don't want people thinking that you helped place it there."
"Well," you say, turning his response over in your head, "what did people say about you when you died?"
"Oh," the ghost says, waving his hand. "Nothing very interesting. Mostly, they talked about my sneakers."
"Your sneakers?" you echo, slightly confused. "Why?"
"They had little lights in the heels," Renault explains. "Flashed red whenever I took a step."
You picture this for a moment. "Fair enough," you say finally. "That does sound pretty cool."
There's a brief pause before, without discussion, you both begin to walk forward, heading farther into the tunnel. After the darkness that you've passed through, it's difficult to say which direction is the correct one, but the slow downward slope of the direction that you're heading in feels appropriately foreboding.
"So," you say after a few moments. "Hell."
Renault nods. "You can't say that Cavalcade Academy doesn't offer a wide variety of school trips: the local posh kids' school, the eternal fiery pit."
"I could have dealt with a better location," you say. "You know, maybe the other afterlife? For the deserving?"
"Ah," the ghost says, glancing at you. "So you believe in that side of things as well, then?"
You consider this for a moment. Normally, you'd not give much thought to what might happen or where you might go after death, but the past twenty-four hours has given you a slight shift in perspective. You have to admit, it would be a real comfort considering your current situation.
"Do you?" you ask. "I guess you've got plenty of reasons to think about it."
Renault shrugs. "I think about it plenty," he says. "That's not what I asked, though. What do you think?"