[ Amos walks through Prax's quarters to his bathroom, pulling out a towel before starting to set up on the small desk. There's a knot of tension between his shoulders - from his conversation with Frank, to the idea of botching up the job and leaving Prax worse off than he was with the staples in, everything is making him feel under pressure.
He takes out the pliers - they're no surgery equipment, but they'll have to do - and cleans them off as thoroughly as he can with the towel, soaked in alcohol. Then, he turns around, walking closer to Prax, two fingers tilting his head and his surgery staples towards the light, a little smile on his lips. ]
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He takes out the pliers - they're no surgery equipment, but they'll have to do - and cleans them off as thoroughly as he can with the towel, soaked in alcohol. Then, he turns around, walking closer to Prax, two fingers tilting his head and his surgery staples towards the light, a little smile on his lips. ]
On myself, yeah. You worried?