Hearing the confirmation from him didn't help her case in the slightest. She bit down on her lip to keep from letting a worried noise escape her, tried to tense her jaw and keep herself even and calm -- but there was really no chance of that. Not with him shoving the stuff in her face like she oughtta take a whiff. The smell alone … She turned her face away, a pained look visible in the curvature of her lips and the wrinkling of her brow.
After a minute, she even clenched her eyes shut, shying away from it as much as she possibly could while still within the confines of her restraints. granted, it wasn't really far at all, and it wasn't making her feel any better like she thought it would, but it was better than the alternative of staring at that syringe head-on. Just the realization that it was there had her gut twisting with discomfort and anxiety.
This time, there was no witty retort. She wasn't going to risk one -- not now. There just wasn't room for it when she was stuck between a hard place and the end of an angelic needle. Now that was one she'd have a hard time getting Sam to buy.
Well, she did end up shying away, although this time there was no biting comment to go with it. In fact, while she seemed to be trying to distance herself from what was going on, she also appeared to have accepted what was going to happen to her. She knew that there was no way out, so now she was just trying to divest herself from the situation and put her mind in another place.
That was fine by him. Soon enough, she wasn't going to be able to ignore it no matter what she did. Whatever reaction it caused, putting an angel's power straight into the heart of a demon (so to speak) was going to result in something.
And now that curiosity would be sated. As a smile curved across his lips, he leaned forward and jammed the needle right into that beating muscle, pushing down the tab on the syringe to empty out the Grace right into her.
The worst part was probably that she couldn't feel it until it was too late. Still, she had the swing of his arm to make her think that she could feel the needle penetrating her heart, simply because she knew what was coming, and a gasp came out of her that was whiny and vulnerable and all the things that Ruby was not. But, that instinctive, psychosomatic twinge of pain was nothing compared to what she actually felt when he'd pushed the syringe.
It was like her whole body was screaming in agony, starting in her chest and slowly spreading out through it. Like there was fire inside of her veins, and not in that pleasant, sexual kind of way. Immediately she started to squirm as best she could beneath the bonds, breathy, frightened noises coming out of her as she struggled to look down at herself as though she could somehow see it creeping through her -- not that she could even get a good vantage point from the way she was strung up.
She bucked every joint of her body that she could manage, bending her knees, lifting her hips, wriggling and suddenly ignoring the way that the blood that had drained out of her was slicking the exam table and staining her clothes (as if they weren't already ruined before this) as she more or less rolled around in it, trying to break free.
The burn was maddening. She wanted to jerk her hands free and claw it out of her, tear out her own arteries and just do without because it was better than suffering through this. Anything was. At this point, running herself through on her own knife wasn't being ruled out, because it more than just hurt.
It wasn't just the feeling of being engulfed in a sea of flames that were licking at what was left of her very soul that was driving her to the edge. It was the inherent wrongness. She'd been suffering since she got there with the feeling that she wasn't as she should be -- trapped in a body that wasn't hers instead of snugly borrowing it, a square peg trying to mash into a round hole. And now there was something holy inside of a being that was quite the opposite and it felt like it was burning what was left of her away.
There was no pain on Earth, no pain in Hell, even, that could match the way her limbs were screaming for reprieve. And by the time it had pumped through her whole body, she began to scream, tears edging at the corners of her blackened eyes as she arched her back off the table, still trying to tear herself free like she was some kind of chained, wild animal. For the most part, coherent sounds were beyond her, and it just batted back and forth between useless whimpers or screams, but she tried to blurt out a syllable every once in a while, eventually making it to shout 'get it out of me!' or some fragment thereof.
And this was the part that he really enjoyed, because even though Ruby had believed that she'd been through the worst of it, he'd come out with something she couldn't have imagined. He'd pushed past whatever Hell had cooked up for her and dished out something entirely new. And he was able to watch, with narrowed eyes, as she was tortured from the inside out. Just that syringe full of Grace, a holy power exactly the opposite of what she was, could cause this sort of agony. It was fascinating.
And he could catalog in his mind the way she slowly broke down. How she writhed around, trying to force it out of her, trying to jump out of her own skin, but she couldn't -- she couldn't because it really was her skin now. She was trapped in that body and there was no way out even as the Grace tore through everything that made her what she was.
Which was why he hoped that this would actually work. If you mixed angel and demon, it made sense for the result to be a human, but there was also the possibility that it would just overwhelm her so intensely that she didn't survive it. He'd been willing to take that risk, but...
It would be far more interesting if she made it through.
When words were actually formed by the girl, the doctor sighed and shook his head. "That's hardly possible now. It's already in you. You'll just have to wait for it to run its course." And they would see what was left of her once that was over. He doubted that his words would even register considering what she was going through, but...
He could wait as long as it took for her to calm down and for the results to become clear.
It wasn't stopping. You'd think that as the minutes wore on, dragging out like they were eternity, that the burning would fade and she would stop feeling like a human matchstick -- or, demon, really -- but no. If anything, the pain worsened and she continued to howl, bucking wildly and trying to free herself from the vessel or at least get to a position where she could curl up into the fetal position, writhing pathetically. That sounded passable.
But it wasn't happening. Sure, it sounded great, but she was still just waging a useless battle against her own body. Her body. Not coma girl -- if it were just a vessel, it wouldn't be hurting this badly. It wouldn't have her shrieking and crying. It was worse than the shallow cuts of a knife. Worse than the pains in the fractured reality that Hell was, that allowed for worse pains than anyone thought imaginable on Earth. No, apparently, they just didn't have the right tools down there.
Orange light crackled under her skin the same as it did in the demons who were cut by her knife. The kind of threatening, inside-out burning that could kill a demon. But, she wasn't lucky enough for it to be killing her. It was just enough to chip away at what was left of her and try to fill the gaps with something that was gnawing away at her insides.
It felt like centuries -- and she knew what those felt like, so it was an apt comparison, Ruby felt -- before it began to ebb away even in the slightest. The pain was still hounding her in an immeasurable way, but it was more like something she could tolerate. The extremes that had led to quiet whimpering when she got bounced back to Hell after the failed attempt on Lilith's life instead of shrill screams.
Her eyes seemed to seize as the whites tried to fight the inky blackness back down while she tried to regain control of herself and deny the pain. Pretend it wasn't as bad as it really was. Quiet whimpers that she wasn't entirely conscious of continued to creep out as she slowed her squirming, tears still leaking out the corners of her eyes. Shallow gasps were the best she could manage, body drenched with a sheen of sweat, expression shaken and hollow.
As fascinating as it was to watch, the doctor grew more and more concerned as more time passed with no change. The way her body lit up was definitely interesting, and he'd heard tell of how a demon reacted to truly threatening amounts of damage, but it seemed that Ruby was holding on despite it all. That was good. If he had to report a failure to the general, there was no way of knowing how he would respond. Landel had been one thing, but...
Eventually, the screaming did start to die down, which was good both for his ears and for this experiment. He could only determine whether or not there had been a permanent change in her when she was actually coherent enough to talk and to feel. She wasn't quite there yet, but he was going to need to get prepared for the next part of the procedure.
The hard part, luckily for Ruby, was over. All he had to do now was close her back up and then observe the results. She'd have to be monitored over the next few days, of course, but that was something that would be done subtly.
So while she continued to attempt to gain control over herself, the doctor moved to the side of the room to gather the supplies he would need to first staple her chest back together and then to stitch up the split skin. Once that happened, it would be as if nothing had been done at all. Except he knew that chances were she would never be able to convince herself of that. The scar would remain there on her chest, but if this went how they'd hoped, then she would feel more emotional effects as well.
Her breathing didn't seem to be evening out any time soon, and it was still shuddered and shallow and labored. The pain was so distracting that she didn't even notice him moving away, instead focused on trying to shift her way into something more comfortable that wasn't going to happen. She couldn't just twist her hips in a different way and get the Grace out of her. It wasn't going to stop burning its way through her.
Worse, there seemed to be some messier side effects. Tears were freely streaming down her face instead of welling up in her eyes and being bitten back. Her cheeks had reddened from the salt in them staining her skin, and there was still a crackling of light beneath her skin, but it seemed like a more constant and duller spread of lightning. Like it was being seen through a cloud cover.
The shrieks of pain had died down, but now there was a choked noise that she didn't really recognize coming from her throat, accompanied by light shaking in her shoulders. Mouth and throat raw from dryness and screaming, her voice sounded raspier when she spoke up this time in shaking and nearly whimpered tones.
"What …" She had to pause to cringe, clenching her deal and humming through the pain that scorched that licked her very soul, "did you do?" She should be dead. It didn't make sense. Angels were the antithesis of everything that demons were.
The burn was the worst in her torso, which was a blessing and a curse. It drew her attention away from the gaping wound that remained there, but it also meant she couldn't just try to shake it out like she could the tingling in her extremities. It felt like he'd poured acid into her chest cavity and just walked away to have tea until he could observe and document the results.
Even dulled, the pain was blinding, and her ability to focus on anything but her whimpered response was severely hindered. When she forced her eyes back open again she was sure the overhead light was contributing to that burny sensation, simply because it felt like it, like the Grace, had pervaded all of her in an intense, agonizing way. But it was then that she realized he was across the room -- or at least, in the darkness outside of her field of vision. She realized faintly that there was no way of knowing just how large the room even was, or if he was even the only one there. Not from her position.
With everything he needed to put her back together again gathered, the doctor wheeled over a metal instrument table so that he would have it all on-hand. The question that was tossed back at him seemed unnecessary, since he'd made it fairly clear what he was doing. She knew that was Grace that had been put into her, so what was confusing about all of this?
Not seeing much reason to answer a question that was already obvious (why would she waste her breath on that?), he only shook his head at her. "You know full well. Now just calm down, this will be over soon enough."
Except it wouldn't. The pain would stay with her all night in lessened amounts, if it didn't carry on into the day as well. And it would do more than that, if his calculations were right. "Aren't you curious to know what happens when demonic power is counterbalanced by the divine?" Would they cancel each other out or would it turn her into something even more peculiar?
None of that would matter if he let her die on him, though, and so he grabbed the staple gun first, using his gloved hands to get her breastbone back into place. Once the adhesive was applied, he bent over and started to bolt the sternum back together. It was odd how crude surgery really was in the end, but it got the job done and Ruby was hardly in the position to complain.
This will be over soon enough. She almost wanted to let herself believe that he was going to kill her, but it was obvious that wasn't true. That'd be too easy. And when he kept talking, it became clear. The experiments. This was just another experiment. The pain, the torture, it was just an added bonus to making her into one giant, demonic petri dish. Fuck all of them.
It was worth considering, especially now that it was apparently her fate. There wasn't a lot of thought she could put into it for the time being, though. Not when her entire body was still on fire, screaming with pain in a way that was distracting her from any brooding on what happened when the divine and demonic came together. Neutrality. Yin and yang.
She never cared for that bullshit. It was impossible to even pretend to care now when it was everything she could do to manage for her pained noises to stay at the level of whimpers and cringes, subdued to the visible sheen of sweat and the tension in her muscles and her gaze.
Luckily, he didn't seem interested in her answer. Or, rather, less than luckily. Because when he moved to begin the post-op procedures to put her chest back to rights, her body jerked with every heavy staple and it kicked the air out of her lungs, causing her to cough, sputter and gasp uselessly.
The pain, she concluded, wasn't the worst of it. It was the humiliation of not being able to do a damn thing about it.
It was no surprise that her body was taking the added abuse so badly considering everything else she had been put through so far, but it obviously had to be done. For that reason, the doctor didn't hesitate, only reaching out one hand in order to hold her down so that she would stop jerking around as much. Stapling someone up wasn't as precise as cutting them open, but it would still be problematic if she moved around too much.
The fact that she was still conscious at this point was rather shocking on its own, but he couldn't expect any less from a demonic creature. And seeing how he'd attempted to put humans through this in the past, it would have been a bit of a let-down if she had passed out.
Though there wasn't much in the way of talking going on anymore; just her pained noises and hard breathing and the sound of the instruments he was using to put her back together.
Eventually her breastbone was back in place as well as it could be, so all that was left was to stitch her up. The doctor first reached out to try and wipe away some of the blood, since he wouldn't be able to see well enough with it in the way. Before long the cloth he was using was completely red.
When he started to clean her up she began to pull lightly at the binding again, trying uselessly to get up. Her efforts were deflated and hampered by injury and hardly anything close to what would actually make progress in freeing herself.
There was a strangeness in the way she couldn't even really feel that he was toweling her off, but she understood the idea. No sensory nerve endings. So, there was pressure, but nothing else. The same reason everyone downstairs knew to keep the cuts shallow -- it'd keep people awake, and the skin was the only place that really got them screaming.
Her movements were as ceaseless as they were slight and ineffective. Between the burn beneath her skin and the way she was trying to keep the doctor from touching her even to clean her up, it was like she had ants crawling beneath her, inciting her to squirm, but the exhaustion from the pain and the resultant screaming made each wriggle lethargic and weak.
It didn't even really process for her that it was stupid to try and get herself free when all he was doing now was closing her up and she wasn't about to gain anything from walking around with her chest cavity open. She was too busy trying to turn her face away and tug on her wrists until they were raw.
It was annoying the way the patient was unable to stay still (clearly he should have made the bindings even tighter), but chances were that Ruby was overwhelmed by a feeling of pure wrongness. Which seemed like a contradiction in and of itself, but that was what it was. He'd taken the very thing that she was opposed to and put it inside of her, so the reaction was understandable.
It didn't make his job any easier, though.
Granted, he wasn't going to let any of that show. Instead, once she was clean enough he switched out his pair of gloves for a new one and then got ready to stitch her up. This was the easiest part of this whole thing, though, since giving someone stitches was a job that he'd done so many times he could probably pull it off with his eyes closed.
Still, without any anesthetic, he got to work, sliding the thread through her skin to make sure it healed up properly. She wouldn't be without a scar, but surely a demon could handle something like that.
And it was time for some more conversation, if only to see if she could manage that. "So, Ruby... other than the pain, does anything else feel... different?" He was speaking as if they were chatting over dinner rather than an exam table.
The pain of the needle puncturing her skin was, by contrast, a welcome distraction. Still, she clenched her jaw and bit back a hissing noise every time it looped through and the thread tightened, tugging her flesh painfully closer, stretching it back over her chest cavity. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, all black ink and hollow detestation.
"Screw yourself, Mengele." She'd said it before, she was sure, but that didn't matter. And, all things considered, the added comparison wasn't that far off base. Besides, it was impressive to Ruby that she could manage even that, because it was followed by a gurgled, pained noise that had her jaw slamming shut again as a twitch ran through her body, like lightning fettering out through her limbs angrily.
Except unlike an electrical impulse, this wasn't going to just run out. It was inside of her now, and it felt like it was tearing her open even as the doctor stitched her shut like some fucked up rag doll.
Her comment wasn't an answer to his question, and so it was therefore ignored in lieu of focusing on finishing the job. She had managed to speak, at least, which meant that her demonic hardiness had been properly proved. Once she was all stitched up, he used yet another cloth to clean up, ignoring the tatters of her shirt and the way that most of her chest was now bared.
All he did was leave a towel for her at the foot of the exam table. He doubted that she would be able to move even after he left, but if she could -- his intention had been to change her, not expose or humiliate her.
Not in that way, at least.
He yanked his gloves off and let out a sigh, glancing at her once more. "Don't worry, Ruby. Whether or not you tell us anything, we will be monitoring you to see how this plays out. I can't imagine it will have no long-term effects."
And since it was clear that she wasn't going to answer his questions regardless of what he did to get her to talk, it seemed that it was time to end. So without further ado he headed to the door, looking over his shoulder once he reached it for a parting glance. "Enjoy that bit of Grace."
Once he'd stepped out and the door was shut behind him, all of Ruby's restraints suddenly came undone.
After a minute, she even clenched her eyes shut, shying away from it as much as she possibly could while still within the confines of her restraints. granted, it wasn't really far at all, and it wasn't making her feel any better like she thought it would, but it was better than the alternative of staring at that syringe head-on. Just the realization that it was there had her gut twisting with discomfort and anxiety.
This time, there was no witty retort. She wasn't going to risk one -- not now. There just wasn't room for it when she was stuck between a hard place and the end of an angelic needle. Now that was one she'd have a hard time getting Sam to buy.
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That was fine by him. Soon enough, she wasn't going to be able to ignore it no matter what she did. Whatever reaction it caused, putting an angel's power straight into the heart of a demon (so to speak) was going to result in something.
And now that curiosity would be sated. As a smile curved across his lips, he leaned forward and jammed the needle right into that beating muscle, pushing down the tab on the syringe to empty out the Grace right into her.
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It was like her whole body was screaming in agony, starting in her chest and slowly spreading out through it. Like there was fire inside of her veins, and not in that pleasant, sexual kind of way. Immediately she started to squirm as best she could beneath the bonds, breathy, frightened noises coming out of her as she struggled to look down at herself as though she could somehow see it creeping through her -- not that she could even get a good vantage point from the way she was strung up.
She bucked every joint of her body that she could manage, bending her knees, lifting her hips, wriggling and suddenly ignoring the way that the blood that had drained out of her was slicking the exam table and staining her clothes (as if they weren't already ruined before this) as she more or less rolled around in it, trying to break free.
The burn was maddening. She wanted to jerk her hands free and claw it out of her, tear out her own arteries and just do without because it was better than suffering through this. Anything was. At this point, running herself through on her own knife wasn't being ruled out, because it more than just hurt.
It wasn't just the feeling of being engulfed in a sea of flames that were licking at what was left of her very soul that was driving her to the edge. It was the inherent wrongness. She'd been suffering since she got there with the feeling that she wasn't as she should be -- trapped in a body that wasn't hers instead of snugly borrowing it, a square peg trying to mash into a round hole. And now there was something holy inside of a being that was quite the opposite and it felt like it was burning what was left of her away.
There was no pain on Earth, no pain in Hell, even, that could match the way her limbs were screaming for reprieve. And by the time it had pumped through her whole body, she began to scream, tears edging at the corners of her blackened eyes as she arched her back off the table, still trying to tear herself free like she was some kind of chained, wild animal. For the most part, coherent sounds were beyond her, and it just batted back and forth between useless whimpers or screams, but she tried to blurt out a syllable every once in a while, eventually making it to shout 'get it out of me!' or some fragment thereof.
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And he could catalog in his mind the way she slowly broke down. How she writhed around, trying to force it out of her, trying to jump out of her own skin, but she couldn't -- she couldn't because it really was her skin now. She was trapped in that body and there was no way out even as the Grace tore through everything that made her what she was.
Which was why he hoped that this would actually work. If you mixed angel and demon, it made sense for the result to be a human, but there was also the possibility that it would just overwhelm her so intensely that she didn't survive it. He'd been willing to take that risk, but...
It would be far more interesting if she made it through.
When words were actually formed by the girl, the doctor sighed and shook his head. "That's hardly possible now. It's already in you. You'll just have to wait for it to run its course." And they would see what was left of her once that was over. He doubted that his words would even register considering what she was going through, but...
He could wait as long as it took for her to calm down and for the results to become clear.
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But it wasn't happening. Sure, it sounded great, but she was still just waging a useless battle against her own body. Her body. Not coma girl -- if it were just a vessel, it wouldn't be hurting this badly. It wouldn't have her shrieking and crying. It was worse than the shallow cuts of a knife. Worse than the pains in the fractured reality that Hell was, that allowed for worse pains than anyone thought imaginable on Earth. No, apparently, they just didn't have the right tools down there.
Orange light crackled under her skin the same as it did in the demons who were cut by her knife. The kind of threatening, inside-out burning that could kill a demon. But, she wasn't lucky enough for it to be killing her. It was just enough to chip away at what was left of her and try to fill the gaps with something that was gnawing away at her insides.
It felt like centuries -- and she knew what those felt like, so it was an apt comparison, Ruby felt -- before it began to ebb away even in the slightest. The pain was still hounding her in an immeasurable way, but it was more like something she could tolerate. The extremes that had led to quiet whimpering when she got bounced back to Hell after the failed attempt on Lilith's life instead of shrill screams.
Her eyes seemed to seize as the whites tried to fight the inky blackness back down while she tried to regain control of herself and deny the pain. Pretend it wasn't as bad as it really was. Quiet whimpers that she wasn't entirely conscious of continued to creep out as she slowed her squirming, tears still leaking out the corners of her eyes. Shallow gasps were the best she could manage, body drenched with a sheen of sweat, expression shaken and hollow.
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Eventually, the screaming did start to die down, which was good both for his ears and for this experiment. He could only determine whether or not there had been a permanent change in her when she was actually coherent enough to talk and to feel. She wasn't quite there yet, but he was going to need to get prepared for the next part of the procedure.
The hard part, luckily for Ruby, was over. All he had to do now was close her back up and then observe the results. She'd have to be monitored over the next few days, of course, but that was something that would be done subtly.
So while she continued to attempt to gain control over herself, the doctor moved to the side of the room to gather the supplies he would need to first staple her chest back together and then to stitch up the split skin. Once that happened, it would be as if nothing had been done at all. Except he knew that chances were she would never be able to convince herself of that. The scar would remain there on her chest, but if this went how they'd hoped, then she would feel more emotional effects as well.
And hopefully he would find out soon enough...
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Worse, there seemed to be some messier side effects. Tears were freely streaming down her face instead of welling up in her eyes and being bitten back. Her cheeks had reddened from the salt in them staining her skin, and there was still a crackling of light beneath her skin, but it seemed like a more constant and duller spread of lightning. Like it was being seen through a cloud cover.
The shrieks of pain had died down, but now there was a choked noise that she didn't really recognize coming from her throat, accompanied by light shaking in her shoulders. Mouth and throat raw from dryness and screaming, her voice sounded raspier when she spoke up this time in shaking and nearly whimpered tones.
"What …" She had to pause to cringe, clenching her deal and humming through the pain that scorched that licked her very soul, "did you do?" She should be dead. It didn't make sense. Angels were the antithesis of everything that demons were.
The burn was the worst in her torso, which was a blessing and a curse. It drew her attention away from the gaping wound that remained there, but it also meant she couldn't just try to shake it out like she could the tingling in her extremities. It felt like he'd poured acid into her chest cavity and just walked away to have tea until he could observe and document the results.
Even dulled, the pain was blinding, and her ability to focus on anything but her whimpered response was severely hindered. When she forced her eyes back open again she was sure the overhead light was contributing to that burny sensation, simply because it felt like it, like the Grace, had pervaded all of her in an intense, agonizing way. But it was then that she realized he was across the room -- or at least, in the darkness outside of her field of vision. She realized faintly that there was no way of knowing just how large the room even was, or if he was even the only one there. Not from her position.
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Not seeing much reason to answer a question that was already obvious (why would she waste her breath on that?), he only shook his head at her. "You know full well. Now just calm down, this will be over soon enough."
Except it wouldn't. The pain would stay with her all night in lessened amounts, if it didn't carry on into the day as well. And it would do more than that, if his calculations were right. "Aren't you curious to know what happens when demonic power is counterbalanced by the divine?" Would they cancel each other out or would it turn her into something even more peculiar?
None of that would matter if he let her die on him, though, and so he grabbed the staple gun first, using his gloved hands to get her breastbone back into place. Once the adhesive was applied, he bent over and started to bolt the sternum back together. It was odd how crude surgery really was in the end, but it got the job done and Ruby was hardly in the position to complain.
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It was worth considering, especially now that it was apparently her fate. There wasn't a lot of thought she could put into it for the time being, though. Not when her entire body was still on fire, screaming with pain in a way that was distracting her from any brooding on what happened when the divine and demonic came together. Neutrality. Yin and yang.
She never cared for that bullshit. It was impossible to even pretend to care now when it was everything she could do to manage for her pained noises to stay at the level of whimpers and cringes, subdued to the visible sheen of sweat and the tension in her muscles and her gaze.
Luckily, he didn't seem interested in her answer. Or, rather, less than luckily. Because when he moved to begin the post-op procedures to put her chest back to rights, her body jerked with every heavy staple and it kicked the air out of her lungs, causing her to cough, sputter and gasp uselessly.
The pain, she concluded, wasn't the worst of it. It was the humiliation of not being able to do a damn thing about it.
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The fact that she was still conscious at this point was rather shocking on its own, but he couldn't expect any less from a demonic creature. And seeing how he'd attempted to put humans through this in the past, it would have been a bit of a let-down if she had passed out.
Though there wasn't much in the way of talking going on anymore; just her pained noises and hard breathing and the sound of the instruments he was using to put her back together.
Eventually her breastbone was back in place as well as it could be, so all that was left was to stitch her up. The doctor first reached out to try and wipe away some of the blood, since he wouldn't be able to see well enough with it in the way. Before long the cloth he was using was completely red.
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There was a strangeness in the way she couldn't even really feel that he was toweling her off, but she understood the idea. No sensory nerve endings. So, there was pressure, but nothing else. The same reason everyone downstairs knew to keep the cuts shallow -- it'd keep people awake, and the skin was the only place that really got them screaming.
Her movements were as ceaseless as they were slight and ineffective. Between the burn beneath her skin and the way she was trying to keep the doctor from touching her even to clean her up, it was like she had ants crawling beneath her, inciting her to squirm, but the exhaustion from the pain and the resultant screaming made each wriggle lethargic and weak.
It didn't even really process for her that it was stupid to try and get herself free when all he was doing now was closing her up and she wasn't about to gain anything from walking around with her chest cavity open. She was too busy trying to turn her face away and tug on her wrists until they were raw.
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It didn't make his job any easier, though.
Granted, he wasn't going to let any of that show. Instead, once she was clean enough he switched out his pair of gloves for a new one and then got ready to stitch her up. This was the easiest part of this whole thing, though, since giving someone stitches was a job that he'd done so many times he could probably pull it off with his eyes closed.
Still, without any anesthetic, he got to work, sliding the thread through her skin to make sure it healed up properly. She wouldn't be without a scar, but surely a demon could handle something like that.
And it was time for some more conversation, if only to see if she could manage that. "So, Ruby... other than the pain, does anything else feel... different?" He was speaking as if they were chatting over dinner rather than an exam table.
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"Screw yourself, Mengele." She'd said it before, she was sure, but that didn't matter. And, all things considered, the added comparison wasn't that far off base. Besides, it was impressive to Ruby that she could manage even that, because it was followed by a gurgled, pained noise that had her jaw slamming shut again as a twitch ran through her body, like lightning fettering out through her limbs angrily.
Except unlike an electrical impulse, this wasn't going to just run out. It was inside of her now, and it felt like it was tearing her open even as the doctor stitched her shut like some fucked up rag doll.
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All he did was leave a towel for her at the foot of the exam table. He doubted that she would be able to move even after he left, but if she could -- his intention had been to change her, not expose or humiliate her.
Not in that way, at least.
He yanked his gloves off and let out a sigh, glancing at her once more. "Don't worry, Ruby. Whether or not you tell us anything, we will be monitoring you to see how this plays out. I can't imagine it will have no long-term effects."
And since it was clear that she wasn't going to answer his questions regardless of what he did to get her to talk, it seemed that it was time to end. So without further ado he headed to the door, looking over his shoulder once he reached it for a parting glance. "Enjoy that bit of Grace."
Once he'd stepped out and the door was shut behind him, all of Ruby's restraints suddenly came undone.
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