"I know," Winter says, not without sympathy. (Though not with a lot; mostly because there's not a lot of tone of his voice, still.) "I didn't, either. You could. You could shoot me, stab me, flay me open and lay metal on my bones. And I'd be fine. But now we have to be careful." He gives her right eyebrow a serious look. "I don't want anything bad to happen to you."