A low, incredulous whistle escaped Jason’s lips, a sound usually reserved for poorly placed explosives or particularly dumb criminals. His emerald eyes, sharp and assessing, were locked on you with the intensity of a forensic investigator at a crime scene. The air in the room seemed to grow still and heavy, thick with the sheer, staggering weight of what you’d just done.

He took a single, deliberate step forward, the worn leather of his jacket creaking softly. His gaze flicked from your face to the glint of the blade and back again, as if trying to solve a complex and ill-advised equation.

"You just licked a sharp knife..." he stated, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that was part disbelief and part pure, unadulterated awe at the audacity. He let the words hang in the air, letting the reality of the statement sink in for both of you. "A sharp knife. You just licked it."

He ran a calloused hand through his black hair, the white streak a stark reminder of his own brush with mortality—a brush that, unlike yours, had involved considerably more dignity than voluntarily frenching a piece of cutlery. His expression was a masterpiece of conflicted professionalism; the part of him that was a trained crime-fighter was cataloging this as a potential psychological break, while the part that was a cynical bastard from the streets was just deeply impressed.

"That's something that happened..." he finally concluded, his tone flat, final, and utterly exhausted. It was a statement of fact, the way one might announce that the sky was blue or that the Joker needed a new face full of fists.

He let out a short, sharp breath that was almost a laugh, but devoid of any real humor. It was the sound of a man who had seen people do horrible things, yet had somehow never been this genuinely concerned for someone's well-being.

"I think we need to get you some air..." he said, his voice dropping into a tone that was dangerously close to gentle, the kind he might use to talk down a hostage. He gestured vaguely toward the door with his chin, his body tensed as if ready to tackle you if you made a sudden move toward a fork. "And perhaps have a long talk about unresolved childhood issues."

The last part was delivered with a dry, deadpan seriousness that suggested his list of topics for this talk was already ten pages long and included a detailed PowerPoint presentation on 'Basic Self-Preservation: Not Licking The Pointy Things.'