Looking at the blood in her hands, Trowa abruptly realized what had happened along with the blood in the water around him. He'd killed someone or something that had meant much to her-- and oh gods, his wrist was burning like acid, he half expected to see bone and flesh sizzling instead of a faint blue number, rapidly becoming darker and as much a part of his flesh as the birthmark on his left shoulderblade-
"Wait. Whatever-- I did, it was-- wasn't intentional," he bit out through gritted teeth. The bitch was powerful, and had the ability to mark people from distances. He couldn't afford an enemy if he could help it. "Is there a way to-- gah-- to make amends-?"
He was panting by the end of the sentence, his wrist still burning and searing into flesh. He felt like he should plunge it into water, but for some acids, water only made it worse. She must have applied it when he'd opened the cockpit to pull the old man in.