He eyed her for a long moment, judging. Calculating. She was worried - but then, everyone worried around him. It seemed natural. He didn't mind. But she did not seem the type to be faint of heart; did not seem as if a little unpleasantness would throw off her mental equilibrium.
He set the bloody scrap of paper on the counter, spreading it smooth almost carelessly, almost caressingly. The blood was fresh. Not wet, but tacky; his fingers coming away red. He wiped them on his trousers, ignoring the oh so strong urge to lick them clean.