Midnighter laughs at her joke, and sets his arm directly into the fire with no real hesitation. He doesn't react like a man in pain-- barely reacts at all, save for the occasional twitch of muscle, the swear under his breath.

"Don't worry about me," he says when he pulls his arm, charred flesh and all, out of the fire. He picks the dead plant off almost daintily. "I've had worse."