She reached back onto the coffee table, where Rosalie had left the the antiseptic ointment and the bandages from the night previous, and she dabbed ointment on one of her fingers. It wasn't anywhere near as good as anything she could make, but she wasn't sure he'd let her near him again like this, so she didn't want to risk getting up.
He was right; they weren't bad. She suspected her own shoulders, under the bandages, were much worse. Still, scars atop scars were always harder to heal, and she reached out the hand with the ointment, letting him stop her if he chose to.
"You've seen... the Beast before?" she asked. "It might be the building, but I think it still has to do with us. Maybe something that lies dormant? There was another..." she trailed off, didn't finish the sentence. It seemed frightening, somehow, to actually voice who she was.