Alexander remained silent as the goddess spoke. His pale eyes followed the paths of the petals on the dirty floor. Mr. Cockroach dared to scuttle forward and snapped up one of the pink ones, then retreated just as quickly as he had come when he found that it tasted a little like arsenic. When Elpis returned to the bedroom Alexander felt a dryness in his mouth that became almost unbearable as she approached. "I remember-" He tried to say, but his parched lips refused him. His eyes widened as he listened and he realized. Death wasn't supposed to kill before it was a mortal's time, and for good reason, one never knew when that mortal would be the hiding place of an ancient something. And, of course, he recognized the look in her eyes. He was that look, body and non-existent soul. He pushed himself back on the bed and rested his hand on Death's cheek, gaze still trained on the goddess.
"He didn't know what he was doing." Alexander managed finally, chin jutted out ever so slightly. "He's not well. Leave us alone." Where his palm touched Death's skin, it began to feel cold, like ice but more, and yet Alexander kept his hand there. He knew he couldn't let the goddess hurt Death - hurt him. There was a part of knew that he could not exist without Death no more than the old man could exist without him.
It was so cold that he thought their skin might stick.