"Everyone seems to be singularly disaster prone this year," observes the Nye serenely. "So lovely. It's like an advent calendar of horrific accidents."
"Please, just shut up," says Valkyrie, frowning rather threateningly at the doctor, who raises its hands defensively and nods, lips curling into a small smile.
"As you wish, horrific accident the tenth."
"It's not that amusing, you know. I'm sure this happens to loads of people."
"Undoubtedly," says the Nye, unable to prevent a small smirk. "However, for some reason, the law of diminishing returns has not yet made much of an impact on this particular source of humor. Every time I see someone who has managed to carve off a bit of their finger along with their Christmas roast, it is exactly as hilarious as the first time."
"Seriously, you need to be quiet before I carve your fingers off."
"These?" It holds its hands up, digits long in their latex gloves. "You may do as you like, dear Valkyrie, but I must warn you that it won't be nearly as fun as you think. These aren't even mine to begin with, after all.
Valkyrie stares, blinks a few times and then shudders quite rather violently.
A/N: One of my father's clients once gouged a hole in her leg by kicking a carving knife. I still wince whenever I think of that.
~Mademise Morte, December 10