Holding the tip of the knife near Fyodor's throat after everything that happened between us is strange enough, yeah?

Fyodor didn't resist what you want to do. He was smiling. Smiling disgustingly calmly. Condescendingly. As if speaking with his smile alone: "go ahead, try it."

Fyodor raises his head, showing his pale neck more, and stretches out his hand, taking the tip of the knife and pressing so that the skin breaks through.

"You like the look of blood, mm?"