[ Krouse picks up the clean scalpel while she gets ready. He feels slightly more assured of what they're doing now that he's done it. It'll hurt, but not badly enough to ruin her day. Easier to pretend this isn't something strange when it's almost surgical.
But he doesn't go for it right away. He flips the scalpel over in his fingers as he approaches, cupping the back of her elbow carefully, and looks at the clean patch of skin that's his target. ]
I wouldn't call you that.
[ It doesn't matter. She'd think it anyway. But maybe it matters to him, saying it.
She didn't count him down. He assumes that's how she'd want it handled for herself. So when he goes for it, planting the scalpel blade halfway into the meat of her arm, he doesn't telegraph until he's already moved. Krouse anchors the handle as he reaches behind himself for more gauze, then offers it to her like the cotton ball, eyes flicked back to her face for her reaction. ]
no subject
But he doesn't go for it right away. He flips the scalpel over in his fingers as he approaches, cupping the back of her elbow carefully, and looks at the clean patch of skin that's his target. ]
I wouldn't call you that.
[ It doesn't matter. She'd think it anyway. But maybe it matters to him, saying it.
She didn't count him down. He assumes that's how she'd want it handled for herself. So when he goes for it, planting the scalpel blade halfway into the meat of her arm, he doesn't telegraph until he's already moved. Krouse anchors the handle as he reaches behind himself for more gauze, then offers it to her like the cotton ball, eyes flicked back to her face for her reaction. ]