Lo and behold, he's ever true to his words. The burn--if one might call it that--knits back together. That... that shouldn't be possible. Her brows furrow. All the longer she watches, the skin heals. It's like no magic she's seen before.

Magic.

She looks up to him, her look unreadable. He'd caused harm to himself, revealed something supposedly dark about him, and admits to blood affecting this. He likens himself to a monster. Warns her of the risk tied to their association.

"Can you sense mine, now?" Could he tell of the wounds upon her back, bandaged as they are? Long gashes from her nails as she'd clawed at herself in a fevered hallucination, convinced there were wings that must be broken free? Could he tell of the bruises on her limbs and neck--hidden by fabric and jewelry as they are? "How near must you be to..." Here, her forehead wrinkles as she attempts to word this properly. "Affected by blood?"