Quoted By:
>Tag n' bag
"So," Gil says, standing over three bodies, "should I-I get some cable, or were you planning on, um...?"
You blink hard. Thank God for Gil. Not even for him specifically. Just for him being there, physical, solid. Well, not solid. Semi-solid. "I'll bite them."
And you do. On the wrists, which feels less awkward, considering it's not the heat of the moment. You don't know if it does anything, since they were unconscious to begin with, but you don't feel like waiting around to find out. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"We should get out of here." You'd dress it up more, usually, but you're off your game— though you're not sure why, considering that you successfully sworded multiple assailants, not to mention escaped memory extraction. Maybe it needs time to sink in? "I assume the doctor guy will be expected somewhere sometime, and he's not going to be there, and there's security that'll— I mean, unless these people are security?" The assailant and his companion. "But they don't reallly look like it. Anyhow, um. Yeah."
You wish Gil didn't look surprised. "Oh. I-I-I agree with all of that."
"You agree with all my plans," you huff. "But alright. We just need to... lock the door. From the outside."
"With no key."
"Yes, Gilbert, with no key. Unless one of these people has a...?"
Gil shakes his head. "Honestly, I-I doubt Headspace even uses keys. Way more likely i-i-it's a passcode of some kind, and you just paralyzed them so they can't talk, and—" He shifts. "Not that you fucked up! Not that you... um, i-i-it's fine. I have a different idea."
—
Gil's different idea involves you slicing off his thumb with your sword.
"Not the whole thumb," he protests. "Half. Or— I-I-I mean, I guess you can pick the finger? I-if it makes you feel better? But I'm not going to feel it, or, um— I can get it back."
This is true. You close your eyes, weigh the value of not witnessing Gil's thumb being chopped off vs. the potential of missing (and getting the wrist or elbow or some such), and open your eyes. You close just your good eye instead, then remember you have two good eyes now. Whatever. "Can I hold The Sword out, and you cut yourself on it?"
"Oh. Um, that'd probably be easier, yeah."
That's what happens. You hold it out, and ten seconds later Gil's holding half a thumb between forefinger and blue stump. "Aces," he says. "Could you, um, roll i-it around?"
"What?"
"I-I-In between your palms? I-I don't have body heat."
This is true but unhelpful. You suck in a breath, take the half-a-thumb, and knead it between the meat of your palms. Mercifully, it turns puttylike right away, and you hand the blob of goo back. Gil takes it, sizes it up, sidles outside, and gets to work on the latch plate. You wander out to join him.
"I-I-It won't <span class="mu-i">lock</span> it," he says. "But that should get i-it good and stuck. I-if they're not bright, they might leave it alone."
You pull the door shut with a muted 'click.' "I didn't know you knew so much about doors."
(1/2)
