Bella fixes French toast for breakfast to salvage stale bread, and, having seen Charlie off to work, hops in her own car and makes for Alice's house. She arrives at nine-thirty, and goes up to the doorbell and rings it.
"I can't just wander around looking for dangerous things to do all the time," Bella mutters.
She turns the car around and starts trundling down the road.
"Neither of our houses'll do. Where can I scream bloody murder without anyone wondering what the matter is? Someplace sanitary, not out here in the woods. I don't want to collect my coins and then unexpectedly die of tetanus."
"I guess no one heard me yelling when I fell. A pentagon would probably get you through the pillar," Bella says.
"Maybe," he says. "That might even be a better idea, I dunno. But what I was gonna say is, you remember how I broke my ribs? Yeah, that wasn't quiet. Most of the rooms in my house are soundproof with the doors closed."
Pause. It has to be asked.
"Do we know for a fact that I am not going to be louder than you?"
"Well, technically no, 'cause I've never heard you scream or vice versa. But I'm pretty fucking sure."
Pause. Drive drive drive.
"I've never tried to mess with my brain to this extent before. Actually what I do most often is stop being mad at people when they interrupt me. But probably best to see if we can get this done before your dad gets home - and probably best if it's not a school day - so that means... tomorrow."
"And since I have not extensively messed with my head like this before," Bella says, "I might not be very good at it, and regardless of the fact that everything about taking a hammer to my foot - I think that's probably my preferred option, hammer plus foot, left foot - is probably relevant to your interests, if it turns out I am not good enough at managing my brain to make it tolerate this, then I'll change my mind, and then there will be no hammering of my foot, okay? I just want that verbally clear. No surprises."
"—yeah," he says. "I mean. You asking me to hurt you is hot. But the asking is important."
"I know a pentagon can heal a clean break," she says. "I don't know if it will take one or lots to handle hex-level damage. I might not have many pentagons left by the time I take care of that."
"Well, really, the problem is what it'll take to handle a little less than hex-level damage."
"Exactly-one-hex might be an actual target, and then after that the same injury could hurt only enough for pentagons. Are you suggesting I sit there raining pentagons while you wish yourself coinmaking powers and then find a way to generate more hexes so you can turn me into - who was it, Wolverine?"
He takes a deep breath.
"...Will it make you any more unhappy about this whole thing if I bring something to hurt myself with in case it works?"
"Oh, for the - what if your clothes catch, or your hair does, and the whole house goes up, and I can't run away because my foot is broken?"
"Believe it or not, I am actually pretty good at fire safety? It does not have to go near my clothes or my hair. If what I saw in that picture worked, then I just have to do this..." he draws a broad line down the inside of his left wrist and over his palm with the first finger of the opposite hand "...and then I can rip into it with my fingernails to get the rest. Easy."
"I would still be more comfortable with some non-fire-based method," Bella says. "While I will be sitting there with a broken foot."
"I will be able to turn my head, if need be."