The corners of her lips curved in the ghost of a smile. “If you like.” was her only response, but some of the mischief had returned to her eyes as she soaked a corner of her silk handkerchief in a some antiseptic. It would sting against the wounds, but Aurora didn’t bother to remind him of that. He’d bear it taciturnly as he did most things she expected. No, she simply took his hand and pulled it on to her lap once she had perched on the desk before him. There was the temptation of course, as always, to see if she could get a reaction, to nick the open wound with a fingernail under the guise of cleaning to see if he would reveal even the smallest hint of pain. “And to whose family do I send the funeral wreath for doing this to your face?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the temptation as she wiped away at the scrapes.