“That’s going to scar,” he frowns. It’s not really a clean cut—more like a break, the skin smashed to form the red boundaries of the wound. “Unless you don’t plan on moving your eyebrows for the next two to three weeks.”

Jack draws back, looking down at Annie, the corners of his mouth still pressed tight. “It’s not a big deal,” he adds, feeling a little slighted. “I do this all the time. This is my job.”