Everyone had a job to do. And right now, Kurt's job was to bleed into a bloody bucket.
His hand hung over the rim, palm sliced open, and blood trickled slowly into the growing pool below. The cut stung, a dull, persistent throb that radiated up his arm, and watching the crimson droplets fall one by one was possibly the most boring way he'd ever spent his time.
"Is there any faster way to do this?" Kurt groaned, his voice edged with impatience.
Lizzie sat cross-legged on the floor beside him, chin resting on her hands, watching the bucket with mild fascination. "I could cut your radial artery, but you'd bleed out in minutes, and we don't want that. Don't know what dying again would do with the cosmic fuzz already on your ass."
Kurt let out a long, suffering sigh. "Just my bloody luck..."
"You said blood," Lizzie said with a wide grin, barely containing her laughter.
Before Kurt could respond, Emma appeared in the doorway, her expression serious. "Sam's awake."
