[Reeve removes the pen she was holding between her teeth and slips it behind her ear-- she smiles.]

I've often though death might be a void. Though I also imagine it might be something a bit more-- sentimental, I suppose. But that's neither here nor there. I'm sorry to tell you that you're here against your will, in a kind of private preserve belonging to a being with entirely too much time on her hands. Which she'd apparently like us to fill by amusing her with our attempts at social interaction.

Of course, you may already know all this! In which case I am sorry to have rambled on. The name's Reeve, by the way. Reeve Tuesti. And you are?