[Well, he notices the lack of answer to his question, but tables it for the time being.
The burn hones inward onto Matt, lighting up the area of him with a powerful and protective sort of warmth, studying him, through him rather than looking him over. Not unlike drawing thread through the eye of a needle.]
If it's your choice, I won't stop you. But that is too much blood too often. You'll get sick, or you'll die.
[He is a bit worried now, admittedly.]
Tell me how you're feeling about it.
[This isn't about what had happened in the moment, so he isn't ashamed of the hint of reverberating edge to his tone, the first brushes of a command.]
no subject
The burn hones inward onto Matt, lighting up the area of him with a powerful and protective sort of warmth, studying him, through him rather than looking him over. Not unlike drawing thread through the eye of a needle.]
If it's your choice, I won't stop you. But that is too much blood too often. You'll get sick, or you'll die.
[He is a bit worried now, admittedly.]
Tell me how you're feeling about it.
[This isn't about what had happened in the moment, so he isn't ashamed of the hint of reverberating edge to his tone, the first brushes of a command.]
I want your honesty.