a little place called trust

"Maybe you'd make a better sergeant then," Isla suggests with a smirk, finishing the last of her preparations and finally standing beside Nate, her tools at hand, her face maskless. "Easier to chat to you without having a muffled voice," she remarks with a playful wink, not that she's sure how much of it he'll see. But then he's telling her he's ready, and with a deep breath that she absolutely doesn't need, Isla nods. Using a traditional scalpel rather than the blades on her fingers for this part, she makes a smooth incision around where she plans to cut into the bone, careful (obviously) to be as symmetrical as possible that it might be a cosmetically pleasing scar. "Alright," she murmurs, zoning into the procedure. "I've made the incisions to your scalp, now I'm just revealing the skull. I imagine it will be quite tough to get through, given what we're made of. How are your sensors holding up?" Isla the flesh is weak