It's not easy for him. He's practiced hurting, harming, maiming, killing. He hasn't practiced being gentle, not ever. But he focuses and with that focus digs into the deeply empathetic part of him that's always been there, simply tamped down and muffled by trauma. He wants to do this; he wants to help. He will do this, and it will be okay.

He's patient as she focuses in her own unique way, willing his heartbeat to something calm, keeping himself relaxed but alert. He follows Daine's instruction precisely, turning the dog's leg just so until she says stop. And when she tells him to pull, he does so as well, a sharp tug until he feels something pop under his hand.

He exhales sharply, a tinge of worry in him, but mostly anticipation of a positive response.

"That it?"