"Glove box," Xander said, indicating the compartment in front of her. Inside was a small first aid box with some painkillers. "You know, when I said your potential scar is going to look cool, I meant it. I wasn't trying to make you feel better or anything else. I meant it. Scars gotten when doing something cool, something you've worked really hard at, I think it's different, but, you know, that's just me saying an opinion. You should know you can ignore me whenever. It's pretty normal to not be upset about something like that. At least, I think it is. A new scar, even on the face, isn't a big deal. And as for being gracious, I don't know why you couldn't manage that. I've never lost my temper with anyone saying something I didn't agree with. Never happened. It's super easy to keep your temper when dealing with something like that," he said, completely deadpanned. "I saw your mum heading out when she heard you were in the hospital. She was pretty much white as the proverb's sheet. She was genuinely scared for you. And I think she is worried about why you aren't worried. She wants to worry with you, maybe connect over it, something like that, I think. She doesn't have a clue what to do if you aren't worried. She doesn't get it, and doesn't know how to get it. She's your mum. She wants to make things right. She can't see that there's nothing wrong, so now she's just lost." He shrugged. "I don't know. I just know that underneath the really bad advice, she cares, for what that's worth."
