"Medically dead?" Alain shakes his head, signalling to the bartender for another slug of whiskey. "I don't get it. You're dead, or you're alive. There's no medically dead. You either stay in this world, or go on to the Clearing." He stares into his empty glass, looking very maudlin and a little bleary-eyed. "What did you do, Tiffany? Before you were here, I mean. Who were you?"