And she says nothing at all. Dry-eyed, with the vestiges of the requested smile on her face, Alexandrie says nothing. Emile would know what to do, but Emile was gone every bit as much as her form was, her spirit actor dissolving away to pull at the emotions of someone less deadened nearby. Emile was gone, and they held things that belonged to each other that they hadn't wanted to give.

What does she say? What can she? How long is it before silence is an answer in and of itself?

The wind turns again; sends sleet in a hard patter against the outside wall in a sudden cacophony that makes her startle. Enough of a shake so that when it shifts again, she manages a few words.

"I should... not have. Stayed," she says, sounding thin and brittle and far away to herself. "Were I not so..." so what? Curious? Stricken? Taken by him? She lets it remain empty. "I might have spared the both of us."