Len noticed the moment she'd withdrawn. He'd sat back in his discarded chair after she pulled away. It felt like the urge to punch something stir within him but he forced down. He turned his thoughts inward, compiling what he knew. Not much to draw any definitive conclusions, but obviously she's been left alone with his illness for years.<br/><br/>He was analyzing her now, seeing if he could connect anything to what he knew. What she'd said about her mother stuck with him. Made him focus on deriving where that tied in to her story. His eyes kept drifting to her bandaged arm. It nagged him that it looked rather recent.<br/><br/>"So thats the cause of that," He murmered, leaning to look at her arm again, "You tried to kill yourself after your mother died."<br/><br/>His voice was soft, but it had an dead, machine like tone to it. It wasn't often his voice got that way. It did bear ill whenever it did. To those who know him, it was akin to a promise of coming tragedy to those who heard it.<br/><br/>"Slightly lower, bit to the right, few centimeters deeper," he whispered almost silently, "Might have had quite the gusher on that one."