Phalanx laughs a little too, but it definitely looks as though they don't realize they're doing it. And they also seem a little surprised when their arms begin to unwind from the center of the blanket-ball under their own volition.

It's a much less aimless motion once they catch on, and soon Phalanx has both arms free from the blanket--wrapped up with (and sewn into) the fancy new strips of cloth, with an old wound on one hand, and a few new little wounds on the other arm. Those pins that Phalanx had previously aligned so neatly in their sleeve would have been fine if they had remembered they were there, and if a big blanket hadn't been rustling over them for the past couple of hours. Most of the pins and needles are still more or less where they'd been left, though stabbed into considerably more skin than they had been before, with a few of them missing entirely.