Faolan felt an ire rise in him at the thought of one of those pricks back on the ship busting Lucien over the head. He almost scolded the lad, but thought better of interrupting. It wouldn't change anything now, even if he did. 

He made his way back over to the rock he had settled on originally, leaned back and crossed his arms as he listened to Lucien's explanation. Faolan, try as he might, could not imagine not being able to feel pain. The concept didn't quite make sense to him. Of course, he could withstand a good bit of it before it was anything to cry about. The knife in the gut wouldn't have effected him so if the damned thing wasn't silver. Although he had been stabbed, kicked, punched, thrown out of windows and knocked on his ass more times than he could count, the pain never really let him. It dulled, sure, and was less intense as time went on and his body grew accustomed to it, but it still hurt and was unpleasant.

A thought struck him then; he wondered if the priests knew this. It didn't entirely add up if they did, if Lucien couldn't feel pain then what had they been so protective over? His healing powers, he supposed. It wasn't every day that someone stumbles upon a part-angel, or whatever he was. He supposed the priests were more worried about people using Lucien than they were hurting him. But still, it didn't excuse their behavior. At least the lad could have run to the store without getting hurt along the way.

When he was finished, Faolan nodded, watching him hover. [color=a36209]"It's a good instinct you have, not to rely on that. Just because you haven't been hurt yet, doesn't mean you [i]can't[/i] be hurt. Might just be waiting to find the thing that gets you."[/color] He almost growled the last couple of words. It had been an accident that he had even discovered his aversion to silver. Beforehand, he had experienced vastly accelerated healing. He could be hurt by any standard means, but the wounds would heal nearly instantly. He had even watched as his flesh pushed bullets out that had been lodged there only seconds ago. 

The accident that lead to him discovering his weakness to silver was one he would never voice aloud: he had been helping a family move and had scratched his hand on the spout of a silver hot-water jug. The wound had not healed right away, as he was used to, and instead festered and drained his health. He thought he even may loose the entire arm, but within forty-eight hours, the fever had ended and he had regained consciousness, drained but alive. He made sure to stay away from the stuff ever since. He had only ever had few incidents with it, the worst of them being his encounter on the ship. 

No need to share this specific information with Lucien just yet...