When she looks up from her work, he's staring at her, his deep red eyes pleading her for something he can't say out loud. The sorrow in them is clear enough that they nearly have empathic resonance.

He doesn't take the glass, like he's too distracted to even consider it. There's a pronounced emptiness in his thoughts, with her this close. Some kind of balance he's achieved where he doesn't feel the need to fight her.

There are still wounds on his shoulder, and side. The shoulder is a long abrasion, as if from hitting concrete at speed, that spreads down his back. The side looks like a seeping electrical burn.