Luke just shrugged nonchalantly, before rolling up the sleeve of his right arm. He had pulled off the synthflesh for his hand long ago, and the glove he wore to cover it did not extend up to where the prosthetic was grafted onto what was left of his arm. Red, angry scaring was clawed around the join, extending up into clawing, white, tree-like branches that disappeared into his rolled up sleeve.

"I already did before I came here."