you're living make believe

Isla take your medicine "Well it did seem painless and pleasant." Even Isla has to concede that much - but it's still a damned shame that it had to happen at all. Her patients were recovering, they were in high spirits despite all else. And now they trundled, still and cold in the hand-cart that Remi pushes. She glances up at the hand that wraps around her arm, trying and failing to find a smile for him. "I suppose I ought to be grateful that Ludo did not allow them to suffer." She ought to be but she isn't. She absolutely isn't. Leading him into the graveyard, she bows her head and shoves her hands in the pockets of her coat. "I don't know," she whispers. There are too many unknowns, and Remi adds yet more onto the pile. Her shoulder lifts so she can wipe her cheek against it, and she shrugs. "I can't rule it out," she admits. "I haven't done anything that I can think would anger anyone enough to do this because of me, not directly. But if they wanted to get to you? I can't rule it out."