[ That was incredible, Flynn wants to say, having felt his own skin knit back together without so much as a word, a far cry from his own prayers for healing and help, but—
they should focus, shouldn't they? He bites it back, though the sentiment shines in his eyes. Instead, he twists, looking at the little figures. ]
Then it must have been one of mine. The ones with my hair-color must be me. Did you hit it in the shoulder?
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they should focus, shouldn't they? He bites it back, though the sentiment shines in his eyes. Instead, he twists, looking at the little figures. ]
Then it must have been one of mine. The ones with my hair-color must be me. Did you hit it in the shoulder?