[ That was probably tmi, wasn't it. His good hand jolts up in an effort to placate what looks more like disgust than concern. ]

No— I mean— It's not like it's real. Okay it hurts like it's real, around the edges, where there's still skin to—

[ That's not any better. Biting his lip, he takes a step back, glancing back down at the bound up wrist. It's fine. (It's very much not fine, but the more he chats about it, the finer it gets, right? (Incorrect. (Feedback loop. (Her reaction isn't doing anything for it.)))) ]

It was A— [ Catching his distracted tongue and playing off the rest of the name as an inelegant and incoherent thinking sound, he tries again. ] Chat. Chat Noir. And he's not creepy, he's totally awesome! Misfires happen, you know that.

[ They weren't the only ones passing out and almost snapping people in half, dude. Anyway, whoa, he's being dragged along to her rock; it's a good opportunity to keep on looking down past his arm and— ]

Shit, wait, your feet aren't looking any better.