[as she's talking, he feels around a bit for her hand and then takes it again, holding it. When she gets to the bit about blood running through the streets like a river, he squeezes unwittingly]
But you don't want any of those things. You could never. Oh, PM, how horrible.
They... they are like my own dreams. Yours. What you see.
[his eyes are wide and staring at his sketches on the wall, but not really seeing anything, and his voice is a bit distant]