screwloose

He winced as his back hit the mattress. "When I said I'd rather you cut me up than yourself," Birkin stared fearfully up at the scalpel as he spoke, "it wasn't meant as an invitation. Please, Stein, you don't want to do this." How in the world was anyone supposed to appeal to a self-proclaimed sociopath's non-existent emotions? "I know you don't." His shallow breaths were bordering on sobs at this point. "You don't want to turn me into another Spirit, do you?" Somehow, this was far, far worse than being strapped to that operating table.