Cavan nodded, but walked further into the cemetery. He looked for a big flat tomb. When he saw what he wanted, he shoved the body onto the chest high plateau and then crawled up after it.
Setting his bag down, Cavan considered things very carefully. Where they were, the fact that this was a mildly public setting. He knelt and retrieved a medium sized butcher's knife from it's spot, and promptly used it to remove the stranger's right foot. One solid swing and it severed through the soft tissue and the connective tissue at the ankle. He winced a little when he heard the blade hit the marble, it was going to cause dulling, if not outright chipping. He'd have to inspect it later.
"Wakey wakey." Cavan said as the knife went through. He knew the pain would be enough to wake the guy up, unless he was a lightweight when it came to tolerance, and then it would just put him out further. But no, there were the first flutterings of eyelids. The agonized grimace at the mouth. Confusion.
He tilted his head, watching the dawning awareness and recognition. There hadn't been enough time to really get to know this one. To understand him as Cavan usually did. There was no plan here, no order to what was going to be done. It was outside of what he was used to. He could work with it, but he really would have preferred just a little more time. At least with the foot gone, there would be no running.
"Now." Cavan reached for his bag again, he'd almost entirely forgotten his new companion, giving his focus to his victim instead. He pulled out a Bic. "I'd like you to continue to breathe, but." The cap and writing end of the pen were pried off. "I don't want you screaming. So." Cavan bit off the flat end, spitting the black tip into his mouth and putting it in his bag with the other pieces. "This is going to be a little uncomfortable for you."
Easily, he found the dip in the throat, the remains of the pen in his mouth, he used the tip of the butcher's knife to open a way, sticking his finger into it quickly after, then followed his finger with the plastic tube. It was done quickly, though sloppily. The sound of breath whistling through the ex-pen assured Cavan that he'd done it right.
What to do next? There were only so many options. He'd been told it should hurt. Cavan could do torture. There wasn't a lot of time, however. This wasn't his own place, it wasn't hidden, he didn't have days and days to draw it out. He didn't have all the tools he'd have liked to have, just his travel kit. A few knives, that was it really.
"Maybe we can make you the male version of Elizabeth Short." He was talking to himself, really. Considering the man on the slab in front of him. There were some things he couldn't do, but he could make the outward appearance the same at the very least. Yes.
Cavan pulled another knife from his bag and got started.