[The hand is caught, and after a moment the palm uncurls for Lucrezia's exploration. There are calluses befitting a swordsman, ones that even the wearing of gloves cannot quite cushion, and faint scars of an old wound or two. His upper arms are more a mess, just below the elbow to where bicep gives way to shoulder; the skin is marred by bullet holes, and here and there the smaller marks of needles and the occasional scalpel. He's not the prettiest sight, but he's become a bit less self-conscious about it since his arrival.]

I can't say for sure. I don't know the answer for myself.

[Zack's head tips a little in curiosity, and there's a small, questioning frown.] I'm not trying to come between you and anyone, you know. I'd just want to be there for a friend.

[He still feels bad about being so wrapped up that he'd missed her brother departing.]