He nods. It's a little somber; but then, all of this is more than a little somber. Fire's as good as anything. Makes him think too much of course-- about that time with Beth, about being in Atlanta with Carol; further back, the farm. Further back, his own home.

But this isn't about him, and there's been enough they've burned away to dull all the sharper pangs. It's clean and decisive, and more than anything, it's something Aaron is gravitating to, so it's a good first step.

"Bet there's some upstairs," he offers. Under better circumstances they could hike out a ways and have a proper fire-- find something worth burning, maybe-- but these days it's not safe to stray. Not that it ever was, really.

He's on the verge of offering to disappear, if that'd be better-- Lord knows he understands wanting to grieve alone-- but one thing at a time.