Both. It felt like—[ a hard sigh ]—like I'd been disconnected. I wasn't there. Not in my head, not in my body. Even the memories are hazy, like a shitty nightmare you can just barely remember.
I am, I hear, some manner of professional. ( Amusement, thin but palpable. ) You should learn, if you're going to inflict injuries, to deal with the reality of their persistence.
[ Sir, you are the most frustrating man she's ever met. ] You could just say "No, Sharon, I'm a masochist, and I enjoy walking around with a hole in my arm," instead of offering a lesson I'm already well acquainted with.
Really, I don't keep grudges. It's a hassle. Besides, if anything, I'm in your debt. We were already even on the day, and I've since given away your knife.
[ Not quite the answer she was expecting. ] Make sure he takes care of it—[ a pause before she clarifies: ] The knife, not your heart. If it's true love, I'm sure he doesn't need the reminder.
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...want me to get you something that will heal it? I might know a person.
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[ Flatly: ] Thanks, though.
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The wound is bearable. I've lost an eye. Really, this is... nothing.
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Who'd you give it to?
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I certainly gave it to someone who had my heart in his hands.
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