The stump bled first like anything cut in two would have. A bright arterial cough made damper by the tourniquet above.
But the gush dwindled to a trickle that was strangled to a seep.
The raw face of bone glazed over with something that wasn't bone and wasn't not; the vessels snipped back into themselves like frightened worms; the cut muscles shivered and pressed in as if a palm was smoothing them.
The assistant's voice went thin. "That shouldn't be possible without—"
"Time," Davis snapped, as if the concept belonged to him. "We'll see if it keeps."
He set his clipboard aside.
Now he did look at Sera, properly, as a man might stare across a gulf he'd always known he would have to cross. "Do you understand what you are?" he asked.
"A disappointment," she said. "But you don't have to keep pretending you're surprised."
