They were halfway back toward the market's entrance when the sound of raised voices stopped them both cold.
Vanya's hand shot out, catching Harold's shoulder, and they dropped behind an overturned display rack without either of them needing to discuss it first.
"—I'm telling you, that was Marcus! That was his face, I would know his face anywhere, and you just—"
"He wasn't breathing right! Did you see his eyes? That wasn't Marcus anymore, that was—"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence. Don't you dare stand there and tell me my husband's brother wasn't human anymore, like that makes it okay that you—"
The voice broke, collapsing into something wet and ragged that wasn't quite crying and wasn't quite screaming.
