Her mind is whirring, a well-oiled machine mapping out the ways in which she could use this curse to her advantage, exploit it for maximum gain so that he might be bound to her for as long as she so wish it. Her thoughts are well hidden behind a whimsical smile as she leads him through the park towards Hawethorn village, their fingers clasped like puzzle pieces, wound together in the same way that Blaise would soon meld their lives together, if everything went as planned.

It is a silent trek for a moment before he speaks and she turns to look at him with inquisitive eyes, a frown pinching the space between her brows. "There is nothing to forgive," she insists, pausing their journey for a moment to wipe a bit of blood he's missed from the corner of his mouth, her fingers like ice against the warmth of his lips. "I am not so easily frightened, you will find," she continues, a teasing smirk pulling up the corners of her mouth.

They continue on then, her fingers finding their way back into his own, her attention drawn away from him to the shadowed alleyways they pass along the way, ever alert for signs of danger lurking in dark corners. They are almost to her small corner house when he speaks again and she startles, hoping he'd forgotten about that little detail. Her eyes darken for a moment before she shrugs, waving her hand in a bit of a dismal of sorts. "After I fell, it didn't seem quite as important to keep waiting," she says, her shoulders rolling in a half-hearted shrug. It isn't a lie, only a miswording - there was no longer a need to keep waiting after he arrived, thus it became a non issue. He needn't know the truth of the matter so long as he didn't press further.

Before he can press the issue, she turns to him, suddenly the coy, embarrassed girl he'd first met in the park all over. "Uhm.. This is my house," she murmurs, indicating the front walk with a wave of her hand before tugging him through the gate of a white picket fence. It takes her only a moment to fish her keys from her back pocket and unlock the door for them and it swings open easily, creaking a bit at the hinges. "It's not much, but it's warm and I think we could both use a bit of that," she laughs, nervous at having him in her home, or so he would think from the way she looks to the ground, her long lashes brushing her cheeks, her teeth pulling at her bottom lip.

The lights are on in the living room and she leads him there, pointing him to the couch as she cuts through to a bathroom off the side of the kitchen, returning moments later with a first aid kit. She sits next to him, pulling her knees to her chest to inspect the wounds, grunting with irritation when she realizes they're very nearly closed as is, bits of gravel lodged in the healing flesh. "Right. This will be more difficult than anticipated," she grumbles, standing up to unbutton her pants. "I'm sorry about this, but I'm going to need your help."

With that, she fishes the bronze knife from her back pocket and then slides out of her jeans, her legs quickly peppering with goose pimples, her boy shorts not covering nearly enough to keep her warm. "Could you re-open the cuts," she asks, frustration knitting her brow as she hands him the knife. "Talk to me while you do it, I'll need the distraction. Tell me about your curse."

She doesn't say anything else, only stretches her legs across the couch towards him, a wary look clouding her face.

She hadn't expected things to be quite so awkward, but alas, she hadn't the heart to cut her own legs open when someone else could do it for her.