The difference is this is steak, not mysterious herbs for delirium.
[It's Weir's plate that she serves first, so her back is turned to him to cut the second steak. When he asks his question, Monts, perhaps foolishly looks over her shoulder as her knife moves.]
Hm? I don't know actually. It's not like I'm— [Is that juice dripping from the steak? It's a little too red and... Oh. She turns her attention back to the board and realizes that the knife has sliced the tip of her finger. The cut isn't too deep but it's enough to make her bleed.
Or maybe it is deep and she can't tell. So that part isn't different.
Well, there goes her steak.]
Weir? Could you find a dish towel or rag of some sort? Or even a napkin. I cut my finger.
cw; mild body horror
[It's Weir's plate that she serves first, so her back is turned to him to cut the second steak. When he asks his question, Monts, perhaps foolishly looks over her shoulder as her knife moves.]
Hm? I don't know actually. It's not like I'm— [Is that juice dripping from the steak? It's a little too red and... Oh. She turns her attention back to the board and realizes that the knife has sliced the tip of her finger. The cut isn't too deep but it's enough to make her bleed.
Or maybe it is deep and she can't tell. So that part isn't different.
Well, there goes her steak.]
Weir? Could you find a dish towel or rag of some sort? Or even a napkin. I cut my finger.