Idly, he rubbed his wrist, taking care not to rub the fabric of his tunic too hard against the skin as he thought about how much of... it she had seen, if anything. Maybe she had just seen how oddly preoccupied he was with it. Then again, maybe not – he couldn't be sure. He just knew it was itching something fierce and he really really really needed some more salve. The memory of the pain shooting through his arm, suddenly and without any apparent cause, helped him put that urge in its place, however.