Finally, Sheel�s cleavage had distracted a rating so much he had forgotten to count the cutlery. Gim had laid an arm over the knife just casually enough that it could be considered accidental. When the door lock clicked he twirled it out and laid it in front of Sheel. �Low quality alloy, but it should do.� He signed.
�I�ll just have to avoid long range or super accurate work.� Sheel held her right arm out, twisting it to reveal a light scar running from her armpit halfway to her elbow. She presented her left index finger to the scar, and the tiny silicon blade that had protruded from under the nail split the skin. The nerves all along the scar may have been turned off, but the sensation of the skin parting still made her grimace. She picked up the knife and studied it, before handing it to Bobb. �There�s a limit, she tried to say with one hand.
Bobb wiped the food from the knife and cleaned it as best he could. Sheel slid the knife into the slit in her upper arm. If she pressed the wound together just so, it would seal up. As it was likely she�d need to repeat the process soon she didn�t bother with this, wrapping a strip of cloth around the wound and putting on a top to cover up.
Sheel blinked. Messages were being sent to her optic nerve. She saw them as letters and numbers dancing in front of her vision. �Ready now.� She signalled, �Now we just wait.�
�How many shots?� Bobb asked
�Two large, or twenty small.�
Gim rested his fingers on the door. �Activity�s increasing all the time. We should go soon.�