He shivered a little as the man worked, catching his breath now and then, but it was clear he wasn't just in pain. The pain wasn't even the primary feeling he was drowning in. Steve made soft, needy sounds as Kavinsky cut into him, staying mostly still aside from muscles quivering he couldn't control. It was a blessing, the pain. It was like a benediction at the moment.

It took a while for the question to register, and Steve was silent a while longer as he thought about it, "Dunno. Am I more than a hundred, or am I thirty-something? Are you dead back home Kavinsky? Is that why you won't tell me your name? Why you keep holding back?"