[Disagree as he may internally about how easy he is to get along with, Carlisle is grateful for Reynir's words, that soft grin of his remaining plastered across his face as he turns his eyes back to the fields before them. He may have a lot to learn in regards to how to manage a friendship, but he is, if nothing else, a quick study. The hardest part is not worrying about being himself, as himself is often something he doesn't like, especially these days.

The thought then crosses his mind of what Reynir will think once he discovers what he is beneath that veil. Should he tell him? Maybe he'll never find out, which somehow doesn't sound like a much better option. The very thought makes Carlisle's stomach churn either way, or maybe that's just his personal distaste for aberrations like himself. It's impossible to tell at this point.

He pulls in a deep breath as he closes his eyes, trying to settle his paranoia for at least two minutes. Let him bask for a moment in the peace around him with the friend beside him.]

Thank you, Reynir. I suppose I should wake up at some point. Go back to facing the world of the living, as pale and cold as it is by comparison.

[Yeah, that's his distaste for the undead and his current state of being talking.]