She took his hand without even giving it a second thought. Odd, considering that she was always extremely cautious not to make physical contact with new people. But he had somehow disarmed her, charmed her, and so she slipped her hand into his.
But she did not make it to her feet before the vision started. A milky-white film covered her large, round eyes and she went stiff as the images began to flash in her mind. She saw him turning; she saw him smiling, gesticulating as though in a performance for children. She could peer past him in this vision, she beyond his head, over his shoulder, but she could not make out a face.
She sensed, rather than saw, the knife that would be his end. What she was was his eyes rolling up and back; what she saw was him falling to his knees. And he was not so very old at all.
The vision cleared, and so did the milk-white film over her eyes. And when she was returned to the present, she was clinging to him, her arms wrapped around his neck as though she might be able to hold onto him, protect him.
After a few moments and a few panting breaths, she realized that he had no concept of what had just happened -- in his experience, a crazy girl had just thrown her arms around him and hung on for dear life. So, she cleared her throat and backed away, making a show of smoothing her skirts out over her legs. "So, what -- ah... what was it we were... going to do?"