"It's not exactly pain." The words turn upwards like a question, as if questioning her own reaction. "I've already taken painkillers, but this is..."
Well, it's pain, definitely. But an odd kind that painkillers don't seem to be able to do more than blunt.
"It's...nauseating, more than anything else. The glass doesn't move as well as skin does, it's not flexible. When I move I can feel..." The sickening pull of muscle flesh from skin that is no longer willing to move entirely with it - and occasionally a sensation she could have sworn was all-out tearing; the strain of muscle straining against a cage; tendons pulling harder to move a substance that needed to be convinced to shift. It was an acute awareness of the inner workings of her arm that was so sickening that even with painkillers, the phantom of pain still remained. "It's hard to describe. And you probably don't want to hear the details, trust me."
She looks into Bruce's face as she carefully rests her arm against her midriff, like wearing an invisible cast. There's no pain in his features, not specifically, but she grew up looking at masks, not faces. What did she know? "You're not in any pain, are you? How long have you been here, anyway?"
Getting around the ship blind couldn't be an easy task - or rather, not if blindness wasn't what you were used to. Knowing Bruce, as well, chances were high he'd been here for a good long while now.
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Well, it's pain, definitely. But an odd kind that painkillers don't seem to be able to do more than blunt.
"It's...nauseating, more than anything else. The glass doesn't move as well as skin does, it's not flexible. When I move I can feel..." The sickening pull of muscle flesh from skin that is no longer willing to move entirely with it - and occasionally a sensation she could have sworn was all-out tearing; the strain of muscle straining against a cage; tendons pulling harder to move a substance that needed to be convinced to shift. It was an acute awareness of the inner workings of her arm that was so sickening that even with painkillers, the phantom of pain still remained. "It's hard to describe. And you probably don't want to hear the details, trust me."
She looks into Bruce's face as she carefully rests her arm against her midriff, like wearing an invisible cast. There's no pain in his features, not specifically, but she grew up looking at masks, not faces. What did she know? "You're not in any pain, are you? How long have you been here, anyway?"
Getting around the ship blind couldn't be an easy task - or rather, not if blindness wasn't what you were used to. Knowing Bruce, as well, chances were high he'd been here for a good long while now.