Gemma was not big on blood or pain or any combination of the two, and she cringed as he tugged the glass out of his hand. Well, he certainly had a stronger stomach than she'd expected him to. In fact, she was kind of... impressed, both with the fact that he managed to somehow break a glass with his grip and that he'd yanked it out without turning ghost white and going all sweaty.
"Heh. Yeah. Guess not," she answered, somewhat dazed as her gaze followed him on his way around the table to sit himself down.
How was she? Oh, right. This was a date. Where they talked about things other than bleeding to death. "Er. Fine, I'm fine. Enjoying the weekend while I can. How are you, all... hand injuries aside?"