i n [B] o x . // EXPIATION.

[abandonware]

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[giraffic]

It smelled like pork.

[ an important detail. her next reply comes with slow, pained breaths and gritted teeth: ]

Was sick of looking at it after everything that happened.

[abandonware]

Mm.

[The idea of burning human flesh smelling like the meat they eat does not cause her nausea, exactly, but her face twists in displeasure nonetheless.]

...

This is a serious injury.

[She says it after a long stretch of working on the injury in stony quiet. It's not unlike A2 to point out the obvious, but there's something lurking in her clipped tone. Annoyance, maybe. Or perhaps she's troubled.]

[giraffic]

Wasn't supposed to be.

[ the pain killers help take the edge off of it, and she's finally seems to be able to keep still, leaning chin-in-hand over the table.

if she's bothered by A2 being bothered, the defiance hasn't come out just yet. ]

I probably should have done it with a lower temperature for longer, but I figured faster would be easier in the long run.