I was going to say "since you performed a psychic vivisection on my brain" but sure. Why not. Let's quibble over details.

[as he quibbles over details. some things should stay forgotten and some things don't change, like their tendency to argue like little boys with their toys.

he may have the time but he doesn't have the energy for this conversation. he's right, it doesn't matter, so he's not even going to ask about any of that. tearing a strip of fabric off his own sleeve, he bends down and retrieves the knife. sets it back on the table, shoots a weak glare at atem, then demands:]

Gimme your hand. And don't stab yourself again, or the next Penalty Game we play will be my boot up your backside.

[honestly, though, he'd love the excuse. it's what he gets for being such a nice guy.]