Eloise was sure she hadn't always been this way, and that if she'd met Evan before she would have offered something about how so sorry she was, or brought her hands up to her mouth, oh my god. Maybe she even would have felt a little nauseous. There were a lot of things she maybe would have done, as Eloise Stamp before. But as it was, the end of the world came with its own reality -- one where people died, and Evan had lost his wife, and the Ellie Evan was meeting now couldn't pretend to understand. She'd never been in love, or anything that looked like love. But she'd seen people die, and she knew what it was like to feel a space grow -- to watch it appear, slowly -- where someone should have been standing. No matter how she could or couldn't relate, Ellie wouldn't belittle Evan's pain by trying to say anything at all.
She felt funny, though.
It was sort of like ice slipping down her spine, or touching the back of her neck -- but Ellie wasn't shivering. Instead she was very still, though she could feel her expression soften until it was nothing, a reddish mouth still trapped in the ghost of a smile.
When Evan offered her the box, Eloise took it gently, setting it down on top of the sketchpad. For a moment she sat there thinking -- perhaps deciding, coming to some conclusion -- and then reached into her pack, rummaging for something else.
Instead -- headphones. Ellie took one ear for herself, pressing the other into Evan's hand. It was an easy way not to have to say anything. Easy to create a space where people didn't talk -- or didn't have to -- in a song. She'd just play the one from this morning, looking out on the empty street. A cloudless sky. Maybe by the time this was over something would come to her -- something she'd be able to say out loud. Till then, Evan could gather himself if he wanted to. Maybe it was better that way.
Eloise opened the box of charcoals, settling on one of a dusty maroon color, and began to draw. Or scribble loops, which was mostly what it looked like.