Seeing how important that answer was had him searching for the right words. And while he searched he had to keep himself from closing up again, to defaulting to a schooled expression that showed nothing. His forefinger traced along her arm. "You deserve to know the kind of man I am and what I have done." He told her. "I think that if you see my past you will not reject me. Because of everything that you have shown me of yourself. One part of me wants you to turn away from me, but another needs you to see what I am and accept me anyway." He swallowed, showing vulnerability and watching for her to be hurt that he would say part of him did not want what they had. "It was very important, that night I fought the Lykae, that you were able to overcome your fear of me and take my hand."<br/><br/>Hallbjorn lifted a hand to cup her cheek and he traced his thumb over her lips as he had before. But he gently teased at the seam of her mouth with his thumb until she yielded to him and he traced her fangs with the pad of his thumb. He was careful and sure - the man did not cut himself on her fangs but the slightest slip would see his skin split. He lowered his hand after he touched all of her fangs, moving it back to his side.<br/><br/>He looked at her with a soft expression. He wanted her change to be complete too. There was a certain weariness in his eyes, as though he were tired of being in control all of the time, and he wanted to stop holding back. But it was gone so fast that it was easy to imagine it as a play of the light. "When you tended to me it was . . . since I was a boy, I could count the number of times another has taken care of me on one hand." He told her softly. It was his own fault, he realized, for never letting anyone else in. But then, what other comradeship could he have had? Drunken, boorish brawling with other Berserkers? Meaningless sex with whatever random female decided to splay her legs out of boredom or pity? Even the Lykae did more in their off-hours than that.<br/><br/>"I think that I could handle your fangs on my neck." Hallbjorn told her. "Or my wrists. If I did not touch you at the same time. We could have that for now." He told her bravely. It was true and honest, but also again, he was trying to give her something to make up for being morose.