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Summary
“Alright, listen,” Charles said, after trying not to think at all for at least five minutes. “Hear me out.”
“Any ideas?” Edwin asked, not looking up from his page.
“It’s just. What would actually happen if you cut my hand off?”
Edwin jerked his head up so fast, Charles wondered that he didn’t brain himself against the stone wall. He looked more offended than he had when he found out about the live snake in Charles’ bag.
“What the hell kind of a question is that?” He hissed.
“I’m not saying we should do it!” Charles backpedaled. “I’m just curious! These cuffs make us proper solid, don’t they? We could probably lop it off and get me out.”
“No,” said Edwin emphatically. “We are not discussing this. I don’t want you getting any ideas and chewing your own arm off like a trapped weasel.”
“Not my whole arm, just my hand.”
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