While Poison herself was never destined to become an aberration, she might surprise Carlisle with how keenly she would understand the thoughts of being a burden and a drain on everyone around him. That's for another time, though, as a most of her thoughts on this matter. She keeps her attention on him, instead, listening and soaking in the information he gives up.

She could say she was sorry again, and it would be just as true as the first time. How the knowledge of the inevitability of something like that must affect a person... she can't even imagine. Poison frowns, looking down at her feet, but she can see the way he trembles from the corner of her eye.

Her attention goes to the bandage there. Slowly, sidelong at first, then more openly. Carlisle's general ire, she has learned, is easily pricked but he has never seemed to mind her curiosity overmuch.

"What is that?" she asks, pressing her lips together for a moment. "It looks like ink, or tar... Where is it coming from?"