[Varian watches him as he relents. He can make a good guess about what's rolling around in Fern's head. Hell, he doubts half of what he said even sank in. He knows Fern is likely taking whatever he did listen to and turning it in on himself like barbs in his own heart.

He knows this because he'd do exactly the same thing, in Fern's position. They really are too alike and that... that's dangerous, sometimes. Still, Fern drops his arm and Varian lets out a slow breath. Okay, good.

He comes forward, gently taking hold of Fern's arm to take a look at it, trying to see why the grass isn't knitting together like it should. His brow furrows, concern evident in his features.]

Has it been doing this since you got back? Is it still a side effect of the death flu? Or has this happened to you before?