camille [pcs]

[cumulative]

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[scrapdraught]

[Well then.]

It's Camille.

[He's running cold, but she presses the back of her palm to his forehead.]

Are you feeling dizzy?

[cumulative]

C... Camille-

[she presses her hand to his head, and his breath hitches, eyes wide. a little fearful, a little uncertain.

please don't kill me, camille-!

but this isn't...

that isn't his face. that isn't his voice.]

[scrapdraught]

Yeah. Camille Preaker. We met just this week.

[He looks petrified. Okay, hand is gone, hands off, hands up in the peace motion.]

What's going on? You look like you've seen a ghost.

[cumulative]

M-my... Camille is my... brother's name.

[still a little out of it, from how distant his tone is.]

He was... killed. He- [mathis blinks, then frowns.] No, he isn't... I don't-

[scrapdraught]

[His brother?

First time she's heard it used for a man. Not like it's a common one to begin with.]

Hey, hey... [She risks a reach again. Same shoulder. Very light, very brush-offable.] It's okay. We're far away from all that.

[cumulative]

We're.... r-right. That's right. He isn't... here, is he...?

[this is somewhere else. somewhere distant.

mathis is still out of it, but the touch is fine. he doesn't pull away, letting her.]

[scrapdraught]

No. No, he's not.

[Camille lets it turn into a rub then, slow and thoughtful. Something grounding as the kid drifts back from the stratosphere.]

It's just you and me right now, Mathis. He's gone.