[ This time, like the small act of her playfulness is an encouragement, Booker doesn't resist wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in closer, feeling her skin against his.

He shakes his head. ]

If there's an answer, none of us have figured it out yet. The cost might be too great to learn the why's and how's of it.

[ It's a hard lesson he'd had to learn, himself.

And now, with his free hand, he lightly gestures to the small inked bird still etched into his skin, right below his collar bone and above his heart. ]

That's correct, yes. And this tattoo is proof of it. Our skin would heal any wound back home, and nothing would take to it permanently, not even ink. Here I'm mortal and whatever power I was replaced with, I haven't discovered it yet.

[ You know, if it even exists. ]