Hennessy's father had once made the offhanded comment that some people were born to die and she'd somehow come to internalize it enough to both accept it as her own fate and yet resist it tooth and claw. What is dreaming endless copies of oneself but proof against ceasing to exist, after all?

What's happening to Hennessy isn't quite dying in the same sense as it applies to normal humans; it's more unmaking, slowly becoming nothing because she hasn't done the thing she was built to do and the magic that keeps her in a human shape is unravelling a drop at a time. Or something like that. She doesn't know the mechanics of it and she'd resent it if they were explained to her by anyone with the actual knowledge to do so.

Fortunately for her, there's someone calling her name, and she won't get to launch herself directly into certain death today.

"Good luck to you -- oh, shit. Of course he'd be here too."