The Operator's attention drags from one person to the next, her never-blinking gaze a marble rolling along a track.
"Certainly, if you remember your wish to join us, we would be glad to have you. Most would prefer to pass on, though. Don't ask me for specifics - unfortunately I've yet to do so myself."
Then, to Jake, in a similar manner.
"Certainly, if you remember your wish to have a word with him, we may be able to arrange that. Who knows, though. He might be occupied that day - if he's still employed."
"Certainly, it would pose a problem if your bodies were to be found, so they won't be."
Her clothes rustle along with the sound of something else as she pulls something from the folds of her clothes.
"Accident on the Hibiya Line causes wreck. Some bodies yet to be found or identified."
She reads from a newspaper which she folds and creases in her hands.
"You'll be missing. You'll be presumed dead. You'll be allowed to return as yourself, miraculously returned, having been spirited away for some time - if that's how you choose to explain it - or you can assume a new identity. Like a runaway who leaves everything behind. Whatever you choose, we'll help. We can even drop you off in your location of choice."
The corners of her lips twitch upwards into a wry smile.
"Well, regardless of whether it was your decision or not, you technically aided in the proceedings, so unfortunately they've ruled that you're all somewhat responsible."
From below, Conan clears his throat.
"Um? Miss Nogawa? Would it not reassure them to let them know that, um... they'll be able to interact with the living world, in some capacity?"
"... ... ..."
The Operator regards Conan like gum on the underside of a park bench, but eventually smoothens her expression before nodding her head.
"Right. I guess it doesn't hurt to note that you'll be able to check in on your loved ones every now and then. They won't be able to see you, won't be able to hear you. But you'll be allowed to visit them. Your sometimes presence felt as a cool breeze on a summer day. A calming rain. A stranger's smile. A song they love on the radio. Little things, that ease the heaviness of life, just a little."
She shrugs her shoulders.
"The ones I would wish to visit passed long ago, but I liked to check in during the wintertime, on the first snowfall of the year. Maybe they won't attribute those little things to you, but perhaps they'll be reminded of the person who's no longer with them."
Another glance down, to Conan.
"I don't know if that makes this decision easier for them, or more difficult."
"...Oh, me neither."
