The thing is, she does understand, in a way. But Lydia doesn't tell Matt that, because she assumes that he's talking about the eye implants; his new vision. She likens that to the voices in her head when she'd first gotten them and how hard it had been to grapple with that new sense until she'd gotten the hang of it. Relating to him, though, means admitting she isn't normal and she's not ready for that. Not yet. "I get it, but that doesn't make what I said any less true, sweetie." Her voice is still soft and even and hopefully gentle enough to be at least mildly reassuring.

Lydia wets a cotton ball with rubbing alcohol in the absence of hydrogen peroxide. "This is going to sting, babe, but I want to make sure it's clean, because we don't know where that razor has been."

He says that he hits things to calm himself and Lydia nods as she cleans the wound, holding his hand a little tighter to keep him from reflexively pulling away with the sting. As she settles a bandage over his cut, deeming it too shallow for stitches, she looks up at his face again. "Then we'll find you a punching bag." Her voice is confident and firm, like she's stating a fact. Lydia thinks she is. She'll figure it out somehow. If that's what Matt needs for an outlet, then that's what Matt will get, if Lydia has anything to say about it.