“I was pulling up weeds in the garden the other day and the gloves must have chafed me something awful...” He shifted uncomfortably and turned his head slightly to focus on an object even further away from the werewolf this time, hoping that the curtain of his hair would obscure the embarrassment on his face. It was humiliating how soft he was in comparison to the others – a fact that had never bothered him before when it was irrelevant to his training. That he worried at all about the condition of his hands was vanity. “It will heal.”