He succeeds in not shuddering when the first trickle rolls down his back; it would only be worse to move or twitch. The pain is sharp and bright, but manageable. And deserved.
Andrej's own breathing hitches a couple times, but when it's done, he reaches quickly for his underblouse, ignoring the fact that the blood will soak through the white right away. He'd rather hide his shame, and the black duty uniform jacket over that will hide the blood underneath for now, at least giving him some sense of propriety until he can get back to his room and try to clean the wound.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, it is only through my own doing and fault in the end," Andrej replies charitably, though his own voice is shaking and wavering.
He still has to do Hector, though. Andrej takes a deep breath, tries to focus on something else for at least a moment, even though the dulling pain of the fresh marks on his back. But the last few weeks have been nothing but horror to look back on, and picking up the knife, he shudders, trying another couple deep breaths and to steady his hands.
When he sets one hand against Hector's shoulder to help hold him still and presses the knife point against flesh, Andrej holds his breath. There's no trickle of blood down Hector's back, each letter etched finely enough to draw blood only as a series of tiny droplets welling to the surface of the cut. Andrej's hand is a bit slow on the first couple, and wavers a bit deeper once, struggling against the shakes. But the skill involved in meeting the bare minimum of what is asked here is clear.
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Andrej's own breathing hitches a couple times, but when it's done, he reaches quickly for his underblouse, ignoring the fact that the blood will soak through the white right away. He'd rather hide his shame, and the black duty uniform jacket over that will hide the blood underneath for now, at least giving him some sense of propriety until he can get back to his room and try to clean the wound.
"There is nothing to be sorry for, it is only through my own doing and fault in the end," Andrej replies charitably, though his own voice is shaking and wavering.
He still has to do Hector, though. Andrej takes a deep breath, tries to focus on something else for at least a moment, even though the dulling pain of the fresh marks on his back. But the last few weeks have been nothing but horror to look back on, and picking up the knife, he shudders, trying another couple deep breaths and to steady his hands.
When he sets one hand against Hector's shoulder to help hold him still and presses the knife point against flesh, Andrej holds his breath. There's no trickle of blood down Hector's back, each letter etched finely enough to draw blood only as a series of tiny droplets welling to the surface of the cut. Andrej's hand is a bit slow on the first couple, and wavers a bit deeper once, struggling against the shakes. But the skill involved in meeting the bare minimum of what is asked here is clear.