[Yeah. No. That won't work on her, Rhys. The more he talks, the colder her expression becomes. The pain doesn't bother her. Not after everything her father did to her, so when he begins to babble on and on...

She simply chooses to slide the scalpel over her upper arm, staring at him.]

No need to fetch a first aid kit, Rhys. It'll be a waste to use supplies on someone who will be dead soon, after all.

[Another slice, this one while she cocks an eyebrow.]

If you're able to turn off the feedback loop — go ahead. I'm waiting.