At the base of a mountain, someone puts a letter and a small paper wrapped parcel into a mailbox.
After a moment she adds, reflectively, "I suppose it's true that you can't kill us, but even if you could, you shouldn't. I don't want the mountain to explode."
"I am trying to avoid the mountain exploding," agrees Veron.
"... How are the others here? I uh. Hesitate to go knock on doors and ask. For obvious reasons."
"None of us is okay. Some are better off than others. I'm newest, I have the most - me left."
"I think I could be let go and be okay afterward. The rest of them are probably going to kill themselves as soon as they have the option."
Veron nods, gravely.
"How are you getting him to do anything?"
"I um. Put a letter in his mailbox, and then had a calm and civil discussion with him. It was a bit bizarre, actually."
"I know! Usually these things involve dramatic confrontations and annoying evil monologues and destruction of important objects or something! But he just explained why he was acting the way he was and what he wanted, and I gave him a possible alternative that worked for him and he agreed to try it!"
...she smiles slightly.
"I'm not complaining about the lack of dramatic confrontations, mind, it's just. Weird."
"It does sound like him. He's - very straightforward."
"He is. It's nice."
"Could be worse," she agrees, wryly.
"Why did you even decide to go near him—?"
"I have this habit of tripping into increasingly more dangerous levels of trouble. At some point I became good at handling it, and now I guess I'm taking initiative."
"...are you immortal?"
"I am not! It's kind of a miracle I'm alive, actually."
"Yes, it is."
"Several miracles, really. In regular intervals. Occasionally in quick succession."