would that I could

"Maybe on the inside, sure," Isla says with a soft smile. "But I don't feel pain. Even if someone were to seriously injure me, they'd not get the enjoyment of hurting me." It isn't what Remi means and Isla knows it, but it needs saying just the same. He gives off all the right signals for someone who is hurting but who is used to it, and just tired has practically become synonymous with I'm not okay but I don't really want to talk about it. So Isla doesn't - she merely checks him over, then mixes up a soluble painkiller that should take the edge off, offering it out in a small paper cup. Then Remi's talking again, Isla sitting before him and offering a gentle smile as he trails off, reaching out to take both of his hands. "You don't have to say anything, but I appreciate you trying," she assures him, giving his fingers a squeeze. "I just want you to know that you scratched an itch for me the same as I scratched one for you. I understand, and I don't think things need to get weird if you don't want them to." Isla the flesh is weak