The touch was heightened; the brush of her fingers against his own. It felt sore, but he found that he didn't want to pull away from it. In fact his own fingers curled a little, just slightly around the shape of her hand.

"You should know," he said tiredly. "The necklace won't last. It'll wear out. By the morning I'll be worse. I don't want it to frighten you."

He looked then to her hand and back to her face, before adding, "Any more than I already do, that is."