He's not going to make it. That whisper of thought works in and settles like a stone. He's not going to make it. This is just the beginning.

He reaches for the list, trading out his own, reading it and sucking a sharp at what he sees here. He wishes he could just not react to these things. He's in Hell and these are the people that come here. Acting surprised is just going to make him an easy target.

"M-my hands are pretty steady but... I've never... I'm a musician, I don't do things with knives so much. I... I could do... pride?" It's not the shortest on the list, but carving that into someone, even as that little voice before whispers that it would be deserved for what it is, he just doesn't think he can do that. "I don't know what spot would be less painful."