His torso was already a patchwork of scars; this wasn't the first time he'd been on the wrong end of a knife, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. He drew his breath in sharply as she slid the blade across his skin, but he made no move to stop her - whether because of the knife at his throat or because he simply didn't want to stop her, it was impossible to tell. "Make sure you do it right," he told her, his eyes still fixed on her, that faint smile still lingering on his lips. "Too shallow an' it won't scar, love, too deep an' I'll go tae medical an' they'll patch it right up."