Hermod just stood there, blushing, while he tried to collect himself. He took a deep breath to try to keep from hyperventilating. There was nothing for him to be nervous about. She was just someone that loved going fast just like he did. He gently pulled his arm out from under her hand, figuring that would help him relax.
“Talking?” He focused on her words, knowing that tactic usually helped him in these situations. “Oh, no. The talking doesn’t bother me. You should meet my brother Bragi. He’s good at talking too.” Maybe that would help. He could think of her as Bragi. Bragi talked and often touched him while they were chatting. And Bragi never made him blush. At least not for the same reason.
He raised his hand to his mouth and gently sucked on the wound. It was a bit gross, but he wasn’t thinking clearly. He looked back at Philotes and blushed again. There was no way he could think of her as Bragi. His brother had a much flatter chest.
“I don’t mind the talking,” he said again. “I just have trouble, uh, you know, talking to girls.” He blushed harder. “Um, it gets worse if, uh, the girl is, um, pretty. Like you.” He looked back at the engine, trying to hide his face which he was certain had to be as red as a tomato at this point.