[ On the outside, Red's shoulder nudges back from the contact, just an inch; it barely looks anything's happened, but Red feels the tiny pricks stab at his skin through his clothing, a hand going over the area by reflex as his min isd unsure of how deep that actually went in with how it feels.
He looks, but he does so briefly, and then he's shaking his head and lowering his hand. There's no blood, anyway. ]
no subject
He looks, but he does so briefly, and then he's shaking his head and lowering his hand. There's no blood, anyway. ]
It's nothing, you didn't do anything.