Mary doesn't know what all is in his metal arm. There could be wires, electricity, something that couldn't get wet. She's glad that it seems alright though.

Taking his hand, Mary lets him lead her to the bathroom. Fitting the palace, it's grand and lovely, filled with marble and glass. She slides her blouse off of her shoulders and down her arms, letting it fall to the floor. While she works on the fastener to her skirt, her eyes land on the scar tissue on his arm. She wonders if he will finally let her touch his scars, to kiss them like she longs to do, if only to let him know that her feelings for him are unconditional. The scars don't bother her.