More calm now that he was assured Sasori wasn't going to start mummifying him, Deidara then wondered why exactly it was necessary for his partner to figure out his extra mouths. Knowing Sasori, he was probably planning to turn Deidara into a puppet in his sleep after he was satisfied with his…research. The redhead had already pulled off this stunt, after all. While debating this, he realised he was being cut into further. Deidara hoped Sasori didn't screw up that mouth permanently. Having a person prod that mouth in particular was making him particularly nervous; he'd been told from childhood that it was a dangerous area because his chest-mouth was directly connected to his heart. Essentially, Sasori was poking at a sensitive bomb. Actually, that…was kind of amazing. The last vestiges of anger in his stare disappeared. And then he remembered that he did trust the other man, even if he'd never say it. He was the only person Deidara trusted. Deidara could only hope that he hadn't become immune enough to the paralytic concoction that the numbing would wear off; he was not Hidan and would not enjoy the pain. At all. Secretly, he loved the expression on Sasori's face when he was concentrating on his work and the blond wished he could see it now. The puppeteer's usual face was next to blank—the one Deidara associated with Sasori working on his art, however, was the closest thing to peaceful that Deidara had ever seen on him. Fuck, he wished Sasori would get out of that shell. He laid there, staring up at Hiruko's eyes through long, blond lashes, occasionally blinking.