"Whatever," Kavinsky said, leaning back languidly. He'd left his mark, and it wouldn't be hard to carve something into his own skin, maybe somewhere discrete even. That wasn't the exercise here.

He watched Shion pick up the knife, but that tremor wasn't going to do. He got up off the table and came closer, grabbing Shion by the hand to steady it. But he was silent now. Just steadying, standing still and waiting.