Reality feels as if it were coming apart. Waking to a raw stump may someday be easy, but John hasn't managed to acclimate to it. Every morning brings him swiftly back to the new and painful realization of his circumstance. He's trapped. His body is a betrayal. And worse, his priorities have expanded beyond the simplicity of his own advancement. He cares for the crew, and recognizes their care in return while being aware it won't save him.
Something must be done. John can't think of exactly what, but the urge to be proactive propels him to Flint's cabin. Just inside the door, John's eyes flick quickly over knife, bowl and blood before he closes the door behind him with a click.
"Can I offer you a hand? Luckily I still have two in my possession."
The offer comes out carelessly. John hardly expects it to be accepted. Surely Flint isn't a man who would trust someone like John so close to him with a sharp knife in hand.
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Something must be done. John can't think of exactly what, but the urge to be proactive propels him to Flint's cabin. Just inside the door, John's eyes flick quickly over knife, bowl and blood before he closes the door behind him with a click.
"Can I offer you a hand? Luckily I still have two in my possession."
The offer comes out carelessly. John hardly expects it to be accepted. Surely Flint isn't a man who would trust someone like John so close to him with a sharp knife in hand.