[it's not going to budge - except suddenly it does, as she ... very clearly lets - it bite into the meat of her shoulder, with a serene, soft little smile.]

[her hand comes down on his wrist then, with a gesture that looks gentle - but if he tries to pull the knife away and turn it otherwise, he'll find it's not such a soft grip as it looks.]

[as her head lolls, loose with torn musculature and woozy from loss of blood, she turns one slip of the neck into a lean, and leans over to press her face against his arm, breathing in the smell of his skin before pulling away and letting her head roll back, eyes rolling up briefly before refocusing again.]

[she gasps, a wet, sloppy sound, and then gasps again.]

[it's only on the third gasp that it probably becomes recognizable as something like happy, pleased laughter.]