[ she looks faintly offended by the notion of warming the blade, like this is the thing which tips her contribution over from an act of trust into one of servitude. the rest moves in at that time as well. of course this is the thing he reaches for to prove something. a blade at his neck, but proving that she is harmless as anything.
her grip on the razor tightens as she comes to stand in front of him. when he is done lathering, she doesn't hesitate to take his jaw in hand, her thumb against his chin to direct it.
she hesitates on raising the blade, as if she hasn't quite decided yet what she's going to do with it. she meets his gaze, the dark pits of his eyes, and she finds too much humanity there. she can't kill him. she hates herself a little for it, knowing what he plans to do, what he has done to her already. it's enough of a pause to be noted, but it doesn't linger. she raises the blade then, not particularly deftly, and scrapes down a stripe of hair along his throat. ]
no subject
her grip on the razor tightens as she comes to stand in front of him. when he is done lathering, she doesn't hesitate to take his jaw in hand, her thumb against his chin to direct it.
she hesitates on raising the blade, as if she hasn't quite decided yet what she's going to do with it. she meets his gaze, the dark pits of his eyes, and she finds too much humanity there. she can't kill him. she hates herself a little for it, knowing what he plans to do, what he has done to her already. it's enough of a pause to be noted, but it doesn't linger. she raises the blade then, not particularly deftly, and scrapes down a stripe of hair along his throat. ]