Despite his suspicion and the searing pain as the peroxide on the wound seethed and bubbled away, that light touch did soothe him slightly. Instead of trying to pull away, as he might have generally, he left his hand still. "Who did that to you?" he asked, looking at the deep marks on Shiloh's chest. There was history there, in those lines, a map in welts and scars. This boy...maybe a man, more, but his age was hard to pinpoint with such a delicate frame, had gone through something. Or someone. Maybe more than one, considering the sheer amount of damage.