Aspen scratched her arm below her sleeve, thinking absently that she should have gone back to her room to dig out a sweater from her suitcase; her skin felt chilly and waxy, but she was focused on Avram, her eyes on his mouth. Phenomenon. It was the most careful possible way to put it, really. A Renaissance plague doctor. It sounded like a joke.
"Did anything happen to you?" she asked, hedging, but she was no longer quite looking at him.