When Nero shifted to show his hand, Dante steeled himself, not sure of what to expect; in the end, it was nowhere near as horrible as what his mind had cooked up, and he let out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.
"Guess I can’t stop looking at you," he tried to joke as he straightened a little to put his cup down. Then, reaching to wrap his fingers carefully around Nero’s right hand, he asked, "How bad was it?"
Nero visibly tensed under Dante’s touch, but didn’t pull away. “It’s almost healed.” He shrugged, but the motion ended up being very stiff. “Guess, I can take those off already.” He didn’t sound very sure, but his left hand’s fingers were already running over the bandages to get to the knot holding them in place.