Credence looks down at his chest, raising a scarred palm to it. Graves really had saved him--not that he was ever in doubt of it, not in the least, but this whole situation is strange. It feels surreal, and that's saying something. Since his arrival in the village things have been surreal to say the least, but this seems a little extreme.
He looks down, and for a moment it seems like he's afraid to look up before he finally tears his gaze away from his hand and his heart and over to Graves.
"Thank you," he murmurs again. "You really did save my life."
Does saving his life make up for inadvertently killing him? He doesn't know. And that wasn't that Graves either, it was the other one. He doesn't think he's ever heard his name. He's not even sure he wants to know.
"I think I'm okay," he states, and pain--pain is a tricky thing for someone like Credence. He's used to mental anguish, of course, but with physical it's a little difficult. "I don't think it hurts, or at least--I don't really feel anything."
He's already used to so much already. He glances down at his blankets again, and then at the older man. He grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and sips, lowering it before finally addressing something else:
"Did you--did you save me because you wanted to, or because of what I am?"
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Credence looks down at his chest, raising a scarred palm to it. Graves really had saved him--not that he was ever in doubt of it, not in the least, but this whole situation is strange. It feels surreal, and that's saying something. Since his arrival in the village things have been surreal to say the least, but this seems a little extreme.
He looks down, and for a moment it seems like he's afraid to look up before he finally tears his gaze away from his hand and his heart and over to Graves.
"Thank you," he murmurs again. "You really did save my life."
Does saving his life make up for inadvertently killing him? He doesn't know. And that wasn't that Graves either, it was the other one. He doesn't think he's ever heard his name. He's not even sure he wants to know.
"I think I'm okay," he states, and pain--pain is a tricky thing for someone like Credence. He's used to mental anguish, of course, but with physical it's a little difficult. "I don't think it hurts, or at least--I don't really feel anything."
He's already used to so much already. He glances down at his blankets again, and then at the older man. He grabs the glass of water on the bedside table and sips, lowering it before finally addressing something else:
"Did you--did you save me because you wanted to, or because of what I am?"