The sensation of flesh rapidly knitting back together was not something Constans would have been able to describe. It sort of... itched? Suitably impressed, he scratched left-handed at the spot on his chest where a quickly fading pale line and smear of blood were the only evidence of the gaping wound there just a minute before. It was nice to take dying of blood loss off the short list of things he'd be doing today.
"A complete moron, I know," he said breathlessly. "You're brilliant, Bethen!" Then he made the mistake of looking up, and his grin withered to a grimace in the face of Bethen's indignant glare. It would be best, said her expression, not to forget that many other interesting ways to die today were still on the table.
Aghast at Bethen’s threat, Constans stammered honestly, “I- I know how bad this looks, and I'm not going to tell you I didn't do anything wrong, but- Maker’s mercy, don’t go running to the Templars, I’ll be a damp smear within the hour.”
He shuddered and pushed limp brown hair out of his eyes with the least bloody of his hands, meeting Bethen’s eyes entreatingly. “You’re right, I’m really dumb, and I should have known better. Just remember I’ve already been beaten once today so if you do it again it’ll be redundant.” He girded himself to lie, looking right into her damned honest face and feeling like the scum of the earth. “I stole the robes so I could get upstairs overnight. I was going to give them back, I swear! I was just going to play a little prank on the Templars.”
Constans tried not to look as nervous as he felt, smiling at Bethen in a boyish, apologetic manner. “Was going to set up a little booby-trap on the stairs down from their quarters.”