Whining, she noses at his face, licking blood off his cheeks and mouth. There has to be something that can be done, there must--

--Oh.

It's an awful, terrifying idea.

(Falstaff has long since abandoned pretending to be dead -- although he's not entirely sure he's awake. God's blood, even in his wildest, drunkest dreams, he never thought to see anything like this!)