You'll never convince me that you're proud of everything you've done in life. That's not how humans work.

[She doesn't take her eyes off of him when he looks away, though its not an entirely conscious fixation. As Fiona often does, she's rotating through outcomes in the back of her mind -- though the wrist is the worst of the damage, she's pretty beat up in general. Even if she wanted to start a fight (she kind of does), she'd lose in a matter of seconds and her dignity isn't worth just a few seconds of amusement.

The question distracts her and pulls her eyes back down to her wrist. She tries to rotate it, but the bandages keep her from moving it much -- thankfully. Her eyelids draw just a bit because whether she wants to admit it or not, he helped her and managed to do a good job in the process.]

Better.

[There's just a second of silence before she decides to extend the olive branch herself for once.]

Thanks.