Amarissa was exceedingly glad that he didn't react strongly to the question. She was grateful for the fact that he took the request, thinly as an inquiry, with easy grace and expectation. And then it was done, and whether or not she had any reservations about asking, he had agreed. She felt herself relax a little. She wasn't quite sure how well this was going to work out still, but she trusted that everything would turn out all right. A moment later he was moving easily, fluidly, sprawling out on her bed in what was distinctly a pose. She raised an eyebrow at him. She was about lie down as well, but then paused upon hearing his question.
"It's not healed yet." Amarissa responded after a slight pause.
She lifted up the side of the shirt that she was wearing, just far enough to make out the strips of bandages that were wrapped firmly around her torso, and then dislodged the bandages. If they needed to be wrapped up once again or changed after she showed him, so be it. For that matter, she wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to see; it wasn't the best thing to look. An angry looking gash that lanced across her stomach. It still looked raw. It had, after all, been completely reopened to successfully remove the blade, but it wasn't bleeding any longer. The healing was just slow since the dark magic from the sword inhibited any proper healing done by magic. It was all Muggle techniques and natural process.
"A scrape or two," Amarissa repeated faintly, her own gaze fixated exclusively on the wound on her body. It would definitely scar, they had said. She would have proof of what had happened forever.