The woman's offer-- he would have to figure out her name eventually, he supposed…-- dragged Hisoka back to a slight physical state of awareness, his shoulder and chest throbbing suddenly as he thought about it. He had not realized the wounds were still there, he supposed that answered the question about his healing abilities. Regardless, the shinigami did not move his eyes from his journal. In a way... the red-haired man reminded him of Tsuzuki...

Act like a fool, smile, flirt...

It hurt to think of it right now, he pushed the thoughts away and reached out with his empathy-- or what was left of it-- in attempt to see the other three's motives. There was no way he could trust any of these people. Although they so far showed no incentives for violence, the boy was not a fool. He had attacked them last night and blood shed only led to further blood shed. He was getting sick of the smell.

Yet despite his efforts, the boy could hear nor feel nothing, finding himself come against the equivalent of a brick wall in his mind. His head only pounded more with the effort too, so much for that. It was truly silent now...

Still not looking up he shook his head.

"I'm not wounded."