Seeing as you're still alive I'll assume your assailant's only success was squandering the element of surprise. [ What Amon imagines isn't anywhere near as romantic as an assassin ambushing Haytham and two ancient brotherhoods caught in a bitter rivalry. He assumes Haytham was simply once as young and stupid as himself. ]

Looking would help, yes. [ Amon bit his caustic tongue, and laid a hand on Haytham's shoulder. Already he could feel the corded muscles in the man's arm and back tighten painfully. Age had done the injury no favours. ]

You must have torn the muscle at a young age, and never allowed it to heal properly. This will be unpleasant; you should try not to bite your tongue when I do this.

[ Bloodletting wouldn't be...wholly inaccurate, and while Amon had every intention of avoiding relying on his bloodbending he couldn't deny that any skill needed to put to constant practice. Detestable as he found his abilities he also didn't want to let his personal pride have him go soft.

There was a small audible 'pop' noise as Amon felt through the long-suffering ball of nerves and poorly healed muscle with pressure in Haytham's arm uncoiling like a snake. But he could only alleviate the pressure the injury put on itself. You couldn't heal scars. ]