He shivers hard, for the first time since he came over to speak with her. His face is very pale, lips tinged blue despite the candlelight.

"How do you know?" he asks her softly; not in rejection of her words, but as one who has recognized the sound of a struck chord. A shared vibration that echoes from them both, the sound of bloodshed and terror. Between the two of them, how many precious things have been destroyed?