He damn near jumped out of the chair as she touched him, instinct kicking in as the switchblade flashed out, the dried poison still on it, but likely not very potent. He caught himself as she spoke, and he leaned forward, taking several deep breaths, before shrugging. "Pain is how you know you are alive. Supposedly. Most of them are phantom pains, left over from wounds that my healing ring fixed in the heat of battle or the moment."<br/><br/>He froze, finally realizing what she was saying, and turned back to her, his face slightly frozen, but more curious than angry. "And when did you figure that out?"