His voice was calming, grounding, cutting through the tears and the sorrow and making her remember to breathe, to look up at him through sticky, damp eyelashes.

Just like a wound, before an infection could grow. It felt like that yes, like her heart had been wounded and an infection had grown and grown over the last year, until it had become too painful to even breathe sometimes.

Now some of the poison had been drained, her chest didn't feel as tight.

"Yes... It do be being like that." She whispered, not trusting her own voice yet.