Samuel still crouched on the floor on one knee, the shards scattered around him and reflecting the light in a pattern that seemed unlikely, and was oddly beautiful. "Yes," he said to Don Juan and propped up his heel on his leg. "A picturesque scene."
And he pointed towards the mirror, where both of them stared back at them. He on the floor, dark and harsh. There was nothing domestic to the blood on his shirt and hands, nor did his face suggest any such inclinations. Pale and harrowed Don Juan, once dead already, was no better. He was not the only one of them, Sam noticed, whose bones seemed to press closer to the skin than usual.
He directed his attention back to the shard. "It would bother me to leave it in there."
The shard stuck deep in Don Juan's arch. The vague concept of how painful such an injury would be in a sober state came up to him but did not really stick. "With every step I see you take, I would think about it."
He pulled the skin lightly and the edges of the cut parted. The glass shone in the light. It would be easier to use some sort of tool, but he had honed the skills of his hands his entire life. As useless as they were with the button, as much did being needed for this task restore their dexterity.
"This might hurt... But you don't look like it does" he said and pulled the glass out of the skin. He watched with an absent expression how a red trickle stained his trousers.
And he pointed towards the mirror, where both of them stared back at them. He on the floor, dark and harsh. There was nothing domestic to the blood on his shirt and hands, nor did his face suggest any such inclinations. Pale and harrowed Don Juan, once dead already, was no better. He was not the only one of them, Sam noticed, whose bones seemed to press closer to the skin than usual.
He directed his attention back to the shard. "It would bother me to leave it in there."
The shard stuck deep in Don Juan's arch. The vague concept of how painful such an injury would be in a sober state came up to him but did not really stick. "With every step I see you take, I would think about it."
He pulled the skin lightly and the edges of the cut parted. The glass shone in the light. It would be easier to use some sort of tool, but he had honed the skills of his hands his entire life. As useless as they were with the button, as much did being needed for this task restore their dexterity.
"This might hurt... But you don't look like it does" he said and pulled the glass out of the skin. He watched with an absent expression how a red trickle stained his trousers.
