[ His gaze meets hers, unflinching as she details to him what he'd been unable to grasp on his own. What he's still unable to grasp, unfamiliar with her biology as he is. People bruise. People bleed. They don't automatically die from it.

He looks into her eye. Looks back down towards his dagger, still with her. Back into her eye. And heaves out a forceful exhale, frustration present in it. ]

Fuck's sake, you're not going to die. You think I would've just left you here if I thought you were going to? I would've snapped your neck and brought your shard with me until I could hand it off to someone on your side, not leave you here to suffer.

[ She said she didn't want to be put down like a horse with a broken leg, but that's not what it is in his eyes — it's euthanizing a sentient being in lieu of letting them lie there in agony for who knew how long before they finally succumbed. He isn't a sadist; he's practical, and her injury didn't call for anything drastic, so he left it alone.

Amos finally breaks her gaze to dip his head, massage at his temples. ]

You don't need to... fuck. [ This is tied to her sense of honour, isn't it. What is that with her. He lifts his head to look back up at her. ] You're not using my dagger to kill yourself just in case. Jesus. Look, you need something else, we'll figure that out. Stab yourself in the throat with one of your arrows if you feel you need to or something, I don't know. But that thing's mine, and I'm leaving here with it.

[ Because it's the only weapon he has on him at the moment; because Yima gave it to him; because he sounds vaguely offended by Hayame's request? Like he thought she had more sense than all of this.

But if she isn't going to budge, then he's just going to have to find some way to play along regardless, isn't he. ]