When he presses her palm she closes her eyes, feels the thrump, the vibrations that punctuate his existence. "It feels strong to me. Solidly alive." And although she is gentle, the dulcet sweetness of youth has rubbed off and she is just an honest apparition now.
"How gallant of you!" She laughs. This too is not contained. Like her grit it is out there free and clear. Her mouth opens. Tongue exposed. Bashful is a word she no longer knows.
"No. I think he suffers already Miles. More so than we could ever do. Pity is the only mischief he deserves. I'm the one that nearly drained him. Maybe I should have let him die."