Pierce
So casual in the face of the trauma he’s sparked, Pierce cares far little for the dramatics on display. It’s pitiful water works from Flora, as far as Pierce is concerned, and as she looks up at him with glassy, wet eyes, Pierce is wiping the blood off the blade, weight sunk on one leg as he considers.
“Did I?” He asks, pulling his electric gaze from the blade to Flora’s reddened face. He drifts again, steps taking him toward Flora’s back, the blade lowering as he crouches behind her, his voice impossibly deep when he croons. “They say you never really get the truth out of torture. They just… say whatever you wanna hear.” His tongue clicks again, a tsk before he exhales a heavy sigh and stands again. “But.. I’m gonna believe you, Flora. You just gotta prove it to us, yeah?” Without waiting for a response, Pierce lifts the blade with the intent to plunge it down into Flora’s shoulder.
His intent isn’t to kill her, not really, but to mangle her arm enough she can’t carry Jack back.
“Did I?” He asks, pulling his electric gaze from the blade to Flora’s reddened face. He drifts again, steps taking him toward Flora’s back, the blade lowering as he crouches behind her, his voice impossibly deep when he croons. “They say you never really get the truth out of torture. They just… say whatever you wanna hear.” His tongue clicks again, a tsk before he exhales a heavy sigh and stands again. “But.. I’m gonna believe you, Flora. You just gotta prove it to us, yeah?” Without waiting for a response, Pierce lifts the blade with the intent to plunge it down into Flora’s shoulder.
His intent isn’t to kill her, not really, but to mangle her arm enough she can’t carry Jack back.
