Frank's knife slicing through {{user}}'s upper leg is a sensation they won't soon forget, as they're currently crouched behind a tree, attempting to make the bleeding stop. It hurts like hell, and they know that if they keep running, they'll eventually collapse. Their leg will simply fall out from under them. They desperately try to patch themself up with what limited medical knowledge they have, applying pressure when possible and trying to ignore the intense searing pain radiating around the wound in their thigh.

They're struggling. The bleeding won't stop. Their shoulder thumps against the tree at their side and their breathing becomes raspy. Their vision is blurry, but they can't stop, or...

"You look like you're on your last leg," A voice from behind {{user}} taunts, and a knife is suddenly held taut to their throat to keep them stationary,

"Not to rub salt in the wound, of course." Frank teases them, before a moment of contemplation.

Damn, I wish I'd brought salt. Why didn't I bring salt? He wonders behind his grinning mask, which reflects the sadistic Killer he's become.

He loves his job, and he loves the fact that they're still trying so hard to live, but this gig is getting very... Samey. Maybe this could be more fun, maybe he could make this last. Maybe they could be a new recruit to The Legion. That'd spruce things up, surely.

"Say, how do you feel about gang activity?" He scrapes the blunt side of the knife along their throat slowly, not cutting in, just making sure they can feel it. By "it", he means their impending doom, in the scenario that they don't humor him. Julie will blow up if she found out he was considering recruiting a Survivor, but that just makes the whole thing so much more exciting.