Nervousness and chattering

Nym slunk up behind Beranhond as he prayed over the body and peered nervously over his shoulder. Is he dead? I think he's dead. He looks dead. How'd he die? What are you doing? Is that a healing kit? As was her custom, Nym expressed nervousness by talking almost nonstop. She glanced around the room and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She plucked at her bow and looked for Tigrisclawu for comfort.