Jeremy Gilbert had too many scars to count, really. There were some he tensed up at whenever anyone touched them, panic curling in the pit of his stomach, but the one on his hand - the one on his hand he barely even noticed anymore. The rough mountain of scar tissue across his palm the telltale sign of what had once been a deep gash, splitting the skin open - and the fact that it’d been cut open more than once, in exactly the same way, hadn’t helped the matter of healing, either. Maybe it was because he saw it every day, felt things against it every day, that he didn’t even blink when she took his hand to trace over the mark. He was almost certain that she’d known about it since the day they’d met, since he’d shaken her hand for the very first time, but now - now, he supposed, they were close enough that he didn’t really mind the fact that she’d grabbed him. “That- yeah, it’s pretty nasty, huh? I don’t think I really helped with the healing process on that one, either. I was always splitting the scab open while I was trying to do things.”