The furrows around his mouth crease under her nails, crooked to one side in time with a pinch at his brow for the sheer gall --

“Where would you take me?”

In this purely hypothetical scenario. To have his arm amputated above the elbow? To the Templars for study? With her shirt still doing most of its duty, he runs his free hand up under it as he settles a little more closely against her. Tired, already, in the one shoulder, and watching carefully for her answer all the while.