[It wasn't obvious, but now that she's identified it--well, it makes sense. What else would you call someone leeching pain right out of your hand? He stares down at his knuckles--which ought to be bruised at the very least, bleeding, split skin--and it should hurt. He's idiotically punched enough inanimate objects to know that much.
But it doesn't hurt. It doesn't so much as sting, and he looks up at Cora, blankly, a little bemused.]
Thanks.
[It comes out gruffly. He flexes his fingers, drops his gaze again.]
no subject
But it doesn't hurt. It doesn't so much as sting, and he looks up at Cora, blankly, a little bemused.]
Thanks.
[It comes out gruffly. He flexes his fingers, drops his gaze again.]
You didn't have to.