Mary didn't tell him that she saw it falling apart as well. They both knew how unstable this was. She closed her eyes with his head pressed to hers, and in his arms there she felt better than she had in so long. Since she'd been his before.
She would have kissed him then if she didn't believe she'd taste the blood in his mouth. Death she could ignore, but she refused to partake in it herself.
"I love you," Mary told him. "All I care about is you."