"You're not," Clara assures her as she slides into the next chair. Her hand stays steady on Bobbie's shoulder, trying to provide as much comfort as she can, useless though it is. She's working hard to mask her own panic, turning it into resourcefulness instead. "Whatever's going on, we're going to figure it out. We're going to fix it."

Lie to them. Keep their hopes up. That's what she was taught to do, right?

"When did you start feeling off?"