[ Elizabeth is firm when she needs to - to get against the curves of his face - and soft when she tenses up around the cut. Her breath is steady, close enough to add that tension that fucks us both up oocly. She pulls back, and begins prepping the next step, especially when he's talking about scars. ]

You know, ancient vikings adorned their scars with pride and joy. They said each scar told stories that honored their dead and scorned their enemies. It was a badge of honor and a terrifying warning.

[ Liz, please don't encourage him?? Either way, he can see the way her fingers take the crude sewing kit - sterilizing it with alcohol in the first aid kit. When she finally preps the needle and thread... ]

Uh - you have a ... body double? [ That's a uh... story. ] How did that happen?

[ And now the process begins! Elizabeth is pressed close, cautiously clutching a pair of tweezers with one hand and the needle with the other. It's a dull pain on the top of the cut, the wound far more painful towards the center. Inward she goes, piercing the sub-dermal layer of the skin to begin the sutures snuggly. ]

Tell me about yourself. What were you doing before you woke up here?

[ She tries to get him to focus on something other than pain as she begins to weave the needle in and out of the cut line. ]