"Some scarred wounds need to be reopened to heal properly," she offered, pressed her lips into his, grinned wide and toothy. He opened, allowed her tongue inside and wondered through the thrust and parry and riposte of wet foils dancing in the warm, fan-blown dark, what cut she had suffered. the fan blades pushed perspiration from skin, sliced through the silence like a whisper. He pulled back a step. "Isn't the breeze lovely?"