intention erased

SAMUEL stretch out my life & pick the seams out Deimos was quiet and Sam actually found his presence was comforting, in a strange way: he was so solid, strong, seemed to know exactly what he was doing. The exact opposite of how Sam felt most days - it helped him to feel like he wasn't doing something totally insane when he let his fingers be pressed down against the table. In the few moments before the swing of the dagger he thought to remember how it felt to feel the grain on his fingertips. Then it was done and he opened his eyes, though had to swallow down a noise of disgust at seeing his fingers being collected in a jar. Taking the seat that was offered gladly he held his hand over the other jar to let the fluid be collected, his other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose then rest his head on by the temple. Deimos' question reached him as if through a trance at first and he had to take a moment to consider. "I think..." Sam found himself looking at his arm, where Remi's upgrade was: invisible, impossible to see. There was something in that, the subtlety of something being unknown...but he found he didn't want that here. It was to be a reminder of the sacrifices he had made for the Grounders and he was done with hiding parts of himself, trying to perfect every inch. "I think I'd be fine with something not unlike a glove, perhaps. Leather with fingers made of whatever material is best inside. It would go with a lot of my outfits, anyway." He gave a weak laugh, but his heart wasn't really in it. take what you like, but close my ears and eyes, watch me stumble over and over.