Oh, so she was suffering, was she? No wonder she was so backwards. The thought brought a smile to her lips, a smile that lingered even when he pulled the vial from beneath her fingertips. It was almost sad, watching that vial go, but she knew she could have it back if she wanted it. She just didn't want it. Not now.
When he remained stoic, so did she, holding the tight distance between them with ease. The thud of his heart was so heavy and powerful that it was almost palpable, hanging in the air like a great drum. She watched the words fall from his lips, a scattering of letters and sounds that she gobbled up before they could hit the ground. Fingers flexed and relaxed, like a fish's fins, as she turned just slightly, squaring her hips and straightening her shoulders.
"Oh," she replied, voice disappointed. "I'm not in the business of prolonging," she said, gaze falling to his chest where his heart should be. "To keep the play going requires a typewriter and a hack." She took a slow breath, feeling the muscle clench and release. "To end it requires guts."