"Um, nothing near my torso or head, in case of accidents?"

"Sure."

He reaches out and very gently picks up her hand.

She doesn't pull away, but she does look nervous.

And a little bit anticipatory.

He squeezes her hand. Bones snap like toothpicks.

She has had broken bones before (which is why she knows her spell will work just fine on them) but breaking a bone is still really fucking painful. So she does not feel any shame in the high pitched whimpery yelp she makes.

His grip tightens involuntarily when he hears the sound. It is a good sound.

Well that turns her head very briefly to nothing but screaming, ow.

"O-okay, okay, let go, please."

He lets go.

Excellent, because she needs a minute to breathe and adjust to the agony that is her hand. Ow. Ow. Ow. This was maybe inadvisable, Rylen would probably be giving her a Look right about now, also that was kind of really hot, ow.

"Fuck," she winces, when she's recovered enough to say actual words and the sharp unfathomable pain in her hand has dulled more to an excruciating throb, "you really can snap me in half like a toothpick."

...he laughs. "Was that ever in doubt?"

"Understanding it logically," whimper, "is slightly different from understanding it viscerally. I had the former now the latter has caught up. Upon reflection, maybe I should poke at masochism before I get the healing right, but then I might be tempted to do something really stupid."

"I admit to being very curious what stupid things you imagine yourself doing."

She carefully moves her shattered hand to a slightly less awkward location. This causes her to hiss in a breath and make an expression he might find interesting.

"I, I don't know, asking you to break something else, not telling you to stop, I haven't given myself enhanced masochism so I can't really predict what I'd do."

"Mm. Well. I don't think I'll suggest that you try it. But I do very much enjoy hurting you."

Navethae lets out a little laugh that's only slightly delirious with pain.

"Shocker." She takes another whimpery breath. "Good news, you'll probably get to break it again, this is going to take several tries to get right. I'm - I'm going to get to fixing it now, hold, hold on."

He laughs softly.

She could heal herself quickly, if she were inclined, but she needs to do this very slowly while she fiddles with the starlight threads of her magic to get the knot right without any waste. There's an aspect of numbness that she could add, but it's not vital to the bones of the effect, and she needs to know precisely what's happening in her hand. Which is made slightly uncomfortable by how healing actually hurts on its own, with her bones nudging themselves back to the right location and knitting together where they've been broken. As such, she makes a number of faces that Tarakova might enjoy, all with a tilt of stubbornness to her jaw. The occasional whimpers as her bones move back into place are stifled and quiet. What she's doing hurts, and she's doing it anyway, because she wants the end results.

Then her hand finishes putting itself back together, when she feels like she's barely made any progress at all. She hisses with annoyance, scrubbing at unshed tears with the hand that wasn't broken.

"Damn it. Again, please, no extra squeezing this time, I have a thing I want to follow up on and I don't want to get distracted -"

Hand goes Tarakova-ward.

"All right." He squeezes her hand and lets go right away.

The sound she makes this time is a combination of a whimper and a stubborn growl.

"T-thank you," she hisses, shaking. And then it's back to work.

...that's really attractive.

She's sort of vaguely noticed that he finds this really attractive, and at a particularly painful bone nudge flashes him a vulpine smile. Being attractive is fun, and so is winning, what can she say. But she's still got work to do, so. She'll be doing that.

Her unshed tears start falling while she's healing her hand the second time. That's not going to be a problem, is it?

That is not a problem at all.

And eventually her hand snaps itself back into place, and she opens her eyes and scrubs at tears again.

.... She notices Tarakova. Or to be more specific, she notices - uh. Well. Her question about whether he's proportional has been answered.

For a few seconds she does not have words. Then she clears her throat and attempts: "Um. Do. Do you need a minute?" she offers, awkwardly.

...he laughs.

"I'd much rather keep watching you heal yourself."

"Um." She blushes. "... All right. If you're sure, then. Um. I kind of need my hand broken again."