Two knives. Which one to play with this time?

One has been chilling on ice since last night, water droplets clinging to the steel like freezer burn. Dull, cold, perfect for scraping; under Sean's expert touch it wouldn't even break the skin.

The other blade, honed to gleaming silver, waits to be heated up. The razor tip would definitely leave welts -- sharp, delicate red licks of fire -- although only where and when he tells it to.

Both hold promise, but he knows which one Viggo will want today.

Smiling, he chooses it, and begins to make his preparations.