The cold air was not something she had been particularly fond of, but there was something about it that felt appropriate for how somber everything was. The rituals, upon finding the meaning of them, was similar to what she was used to. While she had been through the process time and time again, for many a soul, she'd been left here without those. To be expected. She doubted the ones she'd left behind were even still there, removed or destroyed.

She should have expected to find him here, pausing a foot or so away, quietly listening to his words. Slowly she moves closer, the hand not holding a candle, resting gently and gingerly on his shoulder as she moves to rest on the ground next to him. The hand is soon removed silently while she works on the few candles she'd brought along on her own, a deep breath in and out taken as she calms her nerves.

She's cried long enough over these. Felt enough emotions for each and every single one of them.

"The first place off of this train and it's for this purpose," she states simply enough, though there's little other words for the moment. She's certain he can read the meaning in those words without her needing to elaborate.