Crisp, clean, and angry. The mage has been sitting with this for a long time (long enough anyway for the neat scars to heal, and rest assured that he'll be asking about that as well), but the pain, the emotional pain, lingers.

"Barrow showed me this trick," Mobius eventually says, indicating the little straps on his utensils. "Obviously even if I can still use the muscles from memory, I can't ever tell how loose or hard I'm holding something. Helps keep everything from falling everywhere. When I'm holding a sword, I can make sure I'm holding it firm no problem. With something more delicate..."

He tries not to handle glass at this point. He's snapped several feather quills and tries to use much sturdier wooden ones instead now. Writing is...much more difficult than it used to be. And holding on firm and tight to things for a while is exhausting.

And being afraid to touch his friends. That's a downside, too. Can't hold a hand without worrying that it'll be too hard. Can't pet Jude's fluffy winter coat with his hand--well, he can, but he won't feel it.

"You had fine healers look after you. Those scars, that could only come from very clean cuts." So, either taking things out or going in to--what, try and set the bones from the inside? More precise than strapping everything down from the outside, probably. "How long ago was that?"