Their nose wrinkles. Gross.

You're hurting me, and stupid, stupid, that makes them falter, just for a second, fingers and needles slipping loose.

Their head slams into the table. The metal rips through half their face, each individual edge making prolonged blade-through-cloth noises as it pierces their cheek and tongue.



* Tastes like copper and dirt. Chara sounds unsettlingly calm, now.

Frisk shoves their hands towards the woman's oversized eyes.