As he walks back over to her to hand her the box, he takes a closer look at the scratches. It seems she's alright, after all.

Then she asks if the scratches bother him, and it clicks for him what she'd really been worrying about. He almost laughs. There have been times in his life when that might have been enough to make him act, but those are a lifetime and a soul away. It definitely smells good, sweet even, but him wanting to lick her arm is probably information she doesn't need to know at the moment.

Really, he's a bit offended that of all possible things, she'd thought that he'd go into some sort of frenzy at the sight of a few drops of blood. Had she thought he was lying the last time they met? "I thought I was clear on the 'no humans' thing last time. If that," he says the word like it's the most insignificant amount of blood he's ever seen, waving his spare hand in her direction, "If that made me go off I'd've torn out half of New York's throats by now. It wouldn't happen if you'd lost a pint of blood and it's not happening now, Sunshine." He frowns and holds the box out to her until it connects with her body. "Your box."