"First off," Terrence said with a shrug, "Don't give up on your arm just yet. You might be surprised what your body can recover from if you want it badly enough." He was fairly sure his own indestructibility came from his willpower alone. His skin was scarred on the outside; Merlin only knew what kind of marks his lifestyle had left on his skeleton, on his muscles. None of that mattered to him, though, when he was still functional, when he could bounce back from broken bones and bruises and bleeding wounds.
"Second, if you can't play Quidditch anymore, you'll find something else. Because you're K, and I don't give one-letter nicknames to people who aren't bad arse, yeah? Chin up, sparkleface." He couldn't have said where that name came from, for the life of him.