[ he... shifts on his feet a little bit, looking genuinely awkward. There's not a doubt in his mind that he's overcome with gladness at this whole situation - that doesn't mean he has the first clue how to express it without hurting his pride. ]

I'm... not used to it. Having friends. [ beat. ] Most people don't pass through the interspace when they die. The ones that do never remember anything, and aren't very attached to their own existence, so they disappear after a few weeks. I was always alone.

[ it seems like he's making an excuse for his behavior towards them - probably the closest he'll get to apologizing for it. ]