"Right," Blitzmann said after tightening the gag. "What do you say we have a civilized conversation?"
The man was hyperventilating, his nostrils flaring with each panicky breath. His eyes rolled around crazily, sweat pouring down his face. Blitzmann frowned.
"Honestly," he said. "It's almost like you don't want me to help you." He turned, facing his surgical tools. After a moment's deliberation, he picked up a small, curved knife.
"I agree that the reaction was unexpected. And while I'm not sure how it turned your hands into living octopi..." He replaced the knife with a saw. "I'm going to find out."
Music of the now: Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, by Edith Piaf