"I see." Gus looked down at his hands with a faint frown. It was true: nothing felt any different, and if he didn't know what had just happened, he wouldn't think anything had changed at all. He wasn't sure it had.
That was, of course, easy enough to find out, though. He reached into his pocket and fished out the key to the apartment, the one the front desk had given him. "Excuse me," he said politely, unbuttoning his left cuff so he could carefully roll the sleeve up, exposing his arm.
It took more pressure than a knife -- or a boxcutter -- to break the skin, but not too much, and the pain was nothing like a deterrent at all. He sliced a thin, even line right up the center of his forearm...
...And then allowed himself a rare, very genuine smile as the flesh knit itself together again in seconds, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.
no subject
That was, of course, easy enough to find out, though. He reached into his pocket and fished out the key to the apartment, the one the front desk had given him. "Excuse me," he said politely, unbuttoning his left cuff so he could carefully roll the sleeve up, exposing his arm.
It took more pressure than a knife -- or a boxcutter -- to break the skin, but not too much, and the pain was nothing like a deterrent at all. He sliced a thin, even line right up the center of his forearm...
...And then allowed himself a rare, very genuine smile as the flesh knit itself together again in seconds, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses.