Ms. Stewart and Mr. Cosgrove are not… exactly nice people, sometimes.
“…I can use your Tome here to show the process; I suppose it still feels pain?”
“Yes,” I said. “Given how the pain is what’s keeping it from trying to break free. Which we really need to take care of as soon as possible, by the way.” A small fib: I’ve kept a Blasphemous Tome alive and flapping for at least two days without problems. But that was a wimpy one; besides, Jack and I really, really needed to eat.
Pat pursed her lips. “I guess we can show and tell,” she said. “Can you cut away the Tome’s psyche from the rest of it?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “Do you wish it done now? We usually save that task for last.”
“Please do,” Pat said. “Although: is it harder to cut it away at the beginning?”
I smiled as Jack extruded claws and began delicately slicing at the book. “Not at all,” I said as the Tome tried to flip in the air from the cuts; one of my hands whipped out to pin it to the table. “But psyches taste better when marinated in despair,” I explained.