Janet follows him, shaking off the unsettling vibe of that look. He's just a guy, practically a kid. And he asked her to do this, apparently cognizant of all the risks.

In the parlor, she pulls up an ottoman and sets her bag on it, perching on the edge of the coffee table. It's as she's stretching out her hands, flexing her fingers, that she spots the scars on Galahad's back and frowns. "You okay?"