Sonia's hand does fall away from Beth's shoulder, eventually, if only because it seems rude to touch a stranger for too long. She smiles, tiny, rueful.

"I think it's a different kind of dangerous." She sits back on her heels, fisting her hands in her skirt. "I am glad that the dead stay dead. There are just...so many of them." And war -- war is so much more personal, even on the biggest of scales. "At least with...with them, it isn't because they hate you, or...want to control you. There's no greed or spite or vengeance in it."