Lamb had discovered, over the years, that many people would rather not be killed by her. In some circumstances they got their wish, but not because they'd asked
Ah yes, that was a good spot.
Lamb switched the hook between hands and then pressed the sharp tip against the skin, watching her new friend as she pushed it through slowly. For a moment she hissed her breath at the pain, always exquisite even if it wasn't a new type. Blood welled out from the edges of the hook as it went through through through and then remembered with a wet sound through the other side, dripping blood onto the floor of the carriage.
"Not as much blood as you," she told him, lifting her arm to turn this way and that. "Still blood, but it's slower and less." Pain throbbed down her whole arm.