Nick stuck his tongue out in return, in an equally childish gesture, then smiled fondly at the girl. In some ways, she reminded him of Abby, and it awakened a sort of paternal instinct in him. "I wasn't teasing," he insisted. "Not much, anyway. And don't worry about what's proper here. Just be yourself. I happen to find it endearing." He allowed her to slip her arm through his as they walked along, and glanced up at the sky thoughtfully. "That's the thing about modern cities," he said after a moment. "With all the artificial lights, it's hard to see the stars."
He personally didn't see anything wrong with her clothes, and he patted her hand gently. "It makes sense that you would be uncomfortable with some elements of this time, Meg," he assured her. "It's impressive that you've adapted as easily as you have." He caught he glancing at him, and had a fair idea of what she was curious about. "You want to see?" he asked. It was only natural, given her curiosity about bullets.
Nobody was around but her, so he calmly released her arm and lifted the edge of his shirt so that she could see where the bullet had gone in. It didn't feel strange or uncomfortable, and there wasn't anything inappropriate about it, though there could have been with someone else. "They're worse coming out," he explained, turning his back to her and lifting his shirt again. His back was a mess of scarring, and he didn't let her look very long before he pulled his shirt back down. "And that's what a bullet does."