Her hands go to her stomach, the bullet that hit her is on her coffee table, wrapped in his handkerchief and he tells her so. Her lip quivers when she realizes what happened, she doesn't feel right. And he wouldn't be looking at her like that if it had all gone right, either. She realizes she died this time, and there's no way to fix it. She has to turn or die.
She wordlessly puts her face in his shoulder. He waits, tensely.
He wants to distance himself in case she doesn't want immortality, but he can't. Can't bring himself to do it, can't even move.
He waits for the woman he loves to make a decision.