He gave her a bit of a look, but he still couldn't place that Something that was bothering him about her. Then he shook it off. Maybe it was just her way of behaving at funerals. They affected everyone differently.

"I'll probably just stop by for a minute myself," he said a little absently. He was slapping his pockets, looking for his keys. "There's gonna be a thing at the house afterwards, but that's for family and close friends. I won't be there."

Virgil found his key ring, re-buttoned his jacket. The dull metal glinted against his broad brown palm. "I'm sorry for your loss," he told the blonde. "Dean was a good guy."