Part of him considered drawing another rune on himself--he could feel himself start to falter, when his back reclined against the trunk of the tree; Will's shoulder felt so strong next to his, solid, enough that it seemed to bleed through his jacket sleeve and pour some of that harsh, untamed energy into his own body, enough that his chest felt lighter and unconcerned when Will's hand took the stele and replaced the space between his fingers with his own. Jem turned his wrist, watching the contrast of skin, the pale bleeding into slightly more color, his head laying at a comfortable angle against the tree.

"I doubt you can," he said after a moment, raising both eyebrows. "Those were ancient relics, derived from years and years of tempering in China. You'll never find another pair of knives like that again." The face he held was only for a moment--straight and unreadable, until a laugh threatened and came, softly, from the back of his throat, turning his shining gaze elsewhere, away from Will, in case the first look he was met with was one of anger. There was something somewhat enjoyable about finding the opportunity to press his buttons; usually, Jem was just responsible for keeping other people's hands away from them.

"We should at least wash our hands off," he noted after a moment, soft and thoughtful, and he turned his head back to Will, lifting up their twined arms between them; thankfully, Will's wound was already healing, and didn't look like it would need another iratze application. "I think Sophie will be quite cross with you, if you track in this much mud and grime..." Jem gave a vague indication around Will's neck and face with his free hand--yet somehow, despite the sludge there, the other boy managed to look handsome in a windswept, wild boy sort of way. Jem's lips twitched, threatening to smile again.