[Lucy's fingertips found cloth, rested against the fabric. Waited for the warmth of the person underneath to sink through her fingers.
Nothing of the sort did so.
...he was cold. As cold as the dawn.
She pulled her hand back, halfway to her chest. Lucy glanced up to where his hand touched his own throat, still frowning—but shifting on her feet, disquieted. She didn't want to touch anywhere else, but the message was clear.]
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Nothing of the sort did so.
...he was cold. As cold as the dawn.
She pulled her hand back, halfway to her chest. Lucy glanced up to where his hand touched his own throat, still frowning—but shifting on her feet, disquieted. She didn't want to touch anywhere else, but the message was clear.]
...how?