"I mean, it looks like you already did," he comments idly, drumming the marks while his other arm gets sorted. "That's how that End-me got killed, remember?"

He glances down at his hands when they're both bandaged, and grimaces; there's already faint hints of spotting around his wrists where the lines are the most dense, and his eyes follow up the thick straight line still extending up over his front.

And his eyes widen a little, as something like realisation clicks.