In near perfect clarity, Arthur watched Malachi smile and turn away, and he was never do glad to have glasses before in his life.  With ease now, he threaded the needle and went to work, starting at Malachi's stomach and going up.  Arthur had never been so careful with a needle in hand before.

Even if Malachi said he could take it, Arthur wouldn't allow him to walk around with sloppy stitches.  The doctor couldn't allow anything but perfect stitches on a man so beautiful.

"Who stitched you up before?" he asked meanwhile, curious.  "On your thigh, when you were stabbed?"

No one as careful and meticulous as Arthur was being right then, he was certain.  Had Malachi sewn his own leg shut, maybe?  Arthur hated that thought.

Malachi deserved utmost attention, both when breaking him and putting him back together.

"If I ask nicely, will you show me the scar?  I'd like to ensure it's healing properly."