[Mason sits back down on his lounge chair, rabbit in lap. He cocks his head to the side, squinting up at the ceiling]

Technically speaking, this isn't a sort of final destination. S'more of a waypoint, really. I figure, if you graduate, you get to go on being alive. An' if you don't...I mean, I've seen the bright lights a hundred thousand fucking times over, but I've never been allowed to go with them, so I can't say for sure what's waiting.

S'not heaven here, love. But it's not so bad, being dead here. Better'n Seattle.