When you’re nervous, blood rushes to the tips of your fingers and you need to touch something to push it back, to relax it. You carry a locket around your neck for fidgeting with.
Now your fingertips blush and you reach inside your shirt to bring the locket out and touch it, to be able to listen to the orders the masked men are shouting, but that’s not what it looks like you’re doing. As you lose consciousness on the chequered floor, you keep feebly touching the locket to try and force all that blood back inside you. You relax.