It becomes clear to her that Death is a doctor. His appearance signals the end. He bears bad news; he wears it, an aura of black, along with a white coat and a stethoscope. His face is shimmering with the sweat of shared despair, but is still bright with discovery. He watches them awaiting their reaction.
Pip sits in the chair next to her his hand in hers, his life in the hands of others and his face is carefully still. He has schooled his expression (he has had practice at this), but even he cannot completely hide the pulse jumping against his jaw. A single vein, heavy with blood: bad blood. He stares straight ahead at the doctor stares death in the face and he doesnt make a sound. She would almost think he wasnt affected at all, if it wasnt for the way he is crushing two of her fingers between his own, her bones bending and flesh fol