He nods at that, playing with the material of the case underneath his fingers. It's actually a pretty nice case, a collector's case, with stainless steel clasps and immaculate brown casing. There's a dried, dark streak of something near the top, almost looks like a thumbprint. Eridan takes all of this in, and then abruptly flips the clasp and opens the whole thing.

Inside is a fairly antique, if still modern enough to be functional, surgical set. Scalpels, forceps, scissors, needles, blades of varying sizes, even what looks like a bone saw - and they're all soiled, either bloody or caked in gore. The little blood transfusion set off to the side is dirty, and though some of them are only bloody because they look like they were dripped on, some of them have obviously been used. On someone. Eridan leans over the whole gory mess, voice even, almost apathetic.

"You remember when I was all fucked up a while back? Couldn't tell you why?" He canted his head, shifting the case with a little rattle. "Well, me and Ed had it out then. And a couple days back, we had it out again on my terms."

A lean back here, eyebrows raised.

"I didn't figure I oughta lie about it. Seems like the kinda thing a brinesucker oughta tell his matesprit."