He doesn't answer, instead holding out his arm, fingers curled into a fist. Nonchalantly, he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, and then drags a finger over his arm with a wince, a line of blood welling up in the path his finger had traced. Then, reaching to thumb the blood away, he tilts his arm a little so that she can get a better look at it and the cut there that's not healing.
"It doesn't work, if I get hurt too badly," he explains, shrugging. "Self-preservation instinct."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-12-14 07:26 am (UTC)He doesn't answer, instead holding out his arm, fingers curled into a fist. Nonchalantly, he rolls up the sleeve of his shirt, and then drags a finger over his arm with a wince, a line of blood welling up in the path his finger had traced. Then, reaching to thumb the blood away, he tilts his arm a little so that she can get a better look at it and the cut there that's not healing.
"It doesn't work, if I get hurt too badly," he explains, shrugging. "Self-preservation instinct."