[ The hint of a flinch catches her attention. Honestly, she's far more interested in his reactions, in causing him pain and general discomfort, than she is in anything else. So much so that his eventual reply more or less goes unheard by her. A good torture session could be its own pleasing reward, but then again, she's somewhat naturally inclined toward pain.
Humming a thoughtful noise, she sits back and looks him over, mentally comparing the wounds. Did location make a difference? Or perhaps it was depth, with sensation returning closer to the surface first? So many questions. So many variables. Her gaze shifts over to the table. To stick with what she has or to change it up already? Decisions, decisions.
When her attention returns to Poe her free hand takes one of his wrists and moves his hand off the ground so as to be within easy reach and view. Perhaps the further from the heart the greater the chance of feeling returning. Although even as she begins to carefully prick each fingertip with the blade she comes to the conclusion that the opposite would make more sense. ]
Feeling anything yet?
[ She doesn't look at him with her question, instead still looking at his hand. Her hand shifts from his wrist, fingers feeling the back of his hand as her thumb runs over his palm, searching for a good spot to stab him where she's less likely to catch a tendon. Oh well, did it really matter? Most anything could be healed, if not by the medical staff and droids, then by the Force.
Still, rather than going the arguably most harmful route of driving the blade through the middle of his palm, she sinks the blade in between the knuckles of his middle two fingers, her other hand holding his steady until the blade pokes through the other side. Her lips twitch in a ghost of a smirk at the blood that quickly flows, and as she carefully pulls the blade back out she wonders how much damage his hands could take until he wouldn't be able to fly again.
Not that she's planning on letting him anywhere near a ship... although my, wouldn't it be glorious if the Resistance surrendered and it was Poe who flew her to accept their surrender? Oh, she's going to have to remember that idea. ]
no subject
Humming a thoughtful noise, she sits back and looks him over, mentally comparing the wounds. Did location make a difference? Or perhaps it was depth, with sensation returning closer to the surface first? So many questions. So many variables. Her gaze shifts over to the table. To stick with what she has or to change it up already? Decisions, decisions.
When her attention returns to Poe her free hand takes one of his wrists and moves his hand off the ground so as to be within easy reach and view. Perhaps the further from the heart the greater the chance of feeling returning. Although even as she begins to carefully prick each fingertip with the blade she comes to the conclusion that the opposite would make more sense. ]
Feeling anything yet?
[ She doesn't look at him with her question, instead still looking at his hand. Her hand shifts from his wrist, fingers feeling the back of his hand as her thumb runs over his palm, searching for a good spot to stab him where she's less likely to catch a tendon. Oh well, did it really matter? Most anything could be healed, if not by the medical staff and droids, then by the Force.
Still, rather than going the arguably most harmful route of driving the blade through the middle of his palm, she sinks the blade in between the knuckles of his middle two fingers, her other hand holding his steady until the blade pokes through the other side. Her lips twitch in a ghost of a smirk at the blood that quickly flows, and as she carefully pulls the blade back out she wonders how much damage his hands could take until he wouldn't be able to fly again.
Not that she's planning on letting him anywhere near a ship... although my, wouldn't it be glorious if the Resistance surrendered and it was Poe who flew her to accept their surrender? Oh, she's going to have to remember that idea. ]