Victor feels a little stupid now. Of course it's from the fire. His poor girlfriend, having to run for her life through a burning house. . . . He moves a little closer, studying the stricken skin. It looks a bit out of place against the paleness of the rest of her shoulder. He reaches out a hand, then stops. "M-may I -- may I t-touch it?" He doesn't know why he wants to, but he does.