Skellig settles into a chair and does the same, working on 'autopilot' to clear the blood from his hands and wrists, his forearms. His mind is blank, for a brief period, contemplating her words as he cleans his skin.

After a few moments, he nods.

"I...I think I can. It is not entirely the same, but all the while..."

It is painstakingly, frustratingly familiar.