She might have bitten back at him for the tone he took with her were it not for his clarification of his condition. As he gives it, her internal annoyance simmers down to something that twists and flips itself over into an odd sensation of almost-nausea, like the anticipation of a loss.

"Oh," Poison says, quite quietly, a tiny frown taking up permanent residence on her brow. The backs of her fingers briefly brush his sleeve, just above his wrist, then her hand drops and she clasps them both loosely behind her back.

"Do you know how much longer?"