[ Yes absolutely. A pretty big deal. That describes what they went through perfectly. Fraser has always been impressed by Ray's ability to sum lifechanging experiences up into three words or less. Meanwhile he unbuttons his tunic, folding it carefully and placing the finished miraculously squared off and impossibly tidy article on the clean, polished, mature walnut what is Ray doing to his desk tabletop.

Fraser inclines his head, his eyes going from Ray's feet to his eyes. Second hint. He's really not getting this, is he? He coughs softly. ]

My point being that despite inflicting that wound, you've yet to have actually seen it. Or, in fact, any of my many others. The same applies to you, Ray. Considering all of your many exploits, I'm sure you have scars of your own. I'd like to see them.

[ Right. But the thing is that nobody hit Ray with an otter when he was a child.

He raises his chin a half inch or so while he removes his shirt, but never deliberately takes his eyes from Ray's otherwise. The scars on his clavicle and forearm are clear, but all the more so because Fraser is deliberately drawing attention to them this time. ]

In fact, I'm afraid I must insist.