Man-Made Object

"Oh? Maybe you can ask for a different colour. Unless you liked it as well." Isla smiles. As Nate strips off and hands her his clothes, Isla takes care to fold them with the others, before she scrubs up. Already mostly dressed for the occasion, the medic is still careful to cover her hair and face, even if it will likely make it a little less personal. "I'm not the only doctor here," she reminds Nate, arranging her tools next on a rolling tray that she moves beside her as she approaches the operating table. "Mm, me too," she responds, equally as bright, but for Isla there is no panic - only scientific curiosity. But her bedside manner is not to be underestimated, and as she glances at nate, her blue eyes crinkle with a smile that's hidden beneath a surgical mask. "I know you can't feel it, but I will be as gentle as I can. And I am very good with sutures, so the scars should be neat and even," she says. "And if you want to stop at any point, you only have to tell me." Providing he doesn't change his mind, Isla will flex her fingers to reveal the thin blades at their tips, reaching out to begin an incision from sternum to navel. "I'll explain everything I do as I go," she says softly, using some gauze to stem the fluid that begins to flow. "You can also tell me what happens for you, if you like? I imagine your systems are already telling you that something is wrong." ISLA when it's just the two of us, only the two of us, I could die