Patrick couldn't begin to tell Clio how much it meant to him that she constantly reminded him he shouldn't hurt himself. He hadn't since being with her, and he loved that she cared so much. "She's right again," Patrick chimed in.
"I'm not here to argue religious philosophy," Padraig said, though there was no anger in his voice. He knew suffering was part of his faith, but he was hardly going to stop Clio and Patrick fussing about it if they wanted to. He was in their home now. It was only polite.
With Ella safely out of the room, Padraig lifted off his shirt. His back was entirely covered in bandages which wound around his chest as well. Under them were deep whip-marks, and though he usually took care to sanitise them, he had been a bit too drunk to do so this time. "I don't usually get so...gung-ho about it. I had a little too much whiskey beforehand."