The Pharmacist's gentle yet somewhat firm grip makes Dainsleif shudder.

He is afraid to look into those serpent-like eyes. There's something about them that draws him in— But he is also afraid of the same. He doesn't want to fall in love. Not now, not ever. He'd rather bear his endless fate alone.

He frowns a little at the sight of the needle. He doesn't like needles, as much as he hates to admit he is afraid of something so small. His face is flushed, and he feels almost feverish.

He just wishes to leave. This is all too much for him to bear.

But a heart of stone is a heart nonetheless.