A strange mix of emotions flashed through his eyes. Surprise, a little guilt, some curiosity. "Jack, I'm not sure you want me to say. I'm going to take a wild stab, and say you don't object to a little pain between consenting parties, on principle. And I can't feel but feel like your question is colored by some very unpleasant experiences you relayed briefly to me."
He paused, and swallowed and said cautiously, "I know my limits. And he knows his. We got up close and personal to them in whole new ways during the war, when were both out of our heads. I regret a lot of things I did to him when I was mad, although most of it was just fucking with his head, not actually physically hurting him. We can still be rough with each other at times, but it is consensual and not meant to cause lasting harm. It is also hardly a one way street. I certainly don't around torturing people for kicks. I would never try to hurt you, for example. Unless you asked me to, and I was sure you that was what you wanted."