[He's content to just let the pushing happen, keeping his hold on Henry as the backs of his legs bump up against the couch and he flops carelessly backward, settling easily into place there. The motion's all memory, the returned familiarity of being in another place he calls home; in his mind it had felt a little more distant, but on some level he still knows this apartment intimately.]

It wasn't that small, that's just... it's sort of what was left over from it getting through. I can't deal with it yet, I've been trying to, but it's-- it's not really like any other spirit I've dealt with.

[He shrugs one shoulder, a little uncomfortably. Ryan knows Henry isn't going to like the rest of this explanation.]

It killed me, when it came through. Turns out I don't stay very dead at home either.