No, he decidedly does not want to talk about it. And while he'd already seen the words carved into her skin, hazarded a few guesses of who and why, he can't imagine she wants to discuss her own scars either. Who would?

Still, his gaze lingers on the marks again for a moment before flickering upwards, a rigid smile on his lips. "Yes. I suppose you can."

But that's that, as far as he's concerned, leaning against a nearby post of the tent, accepting the goblet when offered and taking a sip that's honestly more for the scent than anything else. "Yes, well. I'd wager a guess you're more the sort to take care of than allow yourself to be taken care of. Am I close?"

Sip.