Death likes to be nice. She'd spent such a long time being not so nice, and having such a bad attitude that it almost made her feel ashamed and embarrassed of how she acted in her younger years. Now, she was wiser, and knew how things should go.

She puts the finger on her other hand up to her lips, tapping on them gently. "Hm. What does a banana say about you..." She hums softly, thinking about it. There was all kinds of slang about bananas, and even a song that she liked. Actually, that's what she was humming while she was thinking.

"You're a little crazy, but in a good way. Harder on the outside then on the inside, though not too hard. A versatile kind of fruit, able to adapt to plenty of different situations. Oh! And good to have around in case of an emergency. How's that for my pop fruit psychoanalysis?" Death grinned.