"That's going to affect my blood coagulation," he said while eying the proffered bottle. The shape, that hollowed O, drew his eyesight downwards, eyes momentarily darting along his nose to his own bleeding flesh. The movement proved brief -- his swollen eye ached. His more acute pupil caught Eridan's face.

"So this is all for my benefit, is that it?" Laughter sounded croaked over split lips. Humorless, rattling, like the shutter of glassless window panes. "Because I certainly. Needed. Respect for you? Because I needed the discipline?"

The words felt cold in his mouth, each syllable an epitaph to any given tombstone. The truth of his speech shone through the mockery of his bloody smile; it was harsh and relentless. It was final.

"I'm not taking it willingly. No," he whispered. Whether Edward meant the drink or the knife, he didn't clarify.