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It hurts. Every time. The faster it heals, the worse it hurts, and the worse the injury, the longer it goes on. He watches, to have something to distract him from the pain. The edges of the wounds knit themselves together; the splinters of smashed bone realign themselves, gouging and scraping all the way. Severed limbs reattach. Resurrection is the worst: the sheer disorientation, combined with a sense of urgency that's not always an illusion, and then the rest of the recovery process. The first couple of times, he was sick, watching it happen. He's used to it now.