"I have never cut myself this badly," he admitted. He glanced over toward Kitty and managed a wan smile despite his discomfort. His hand hurt profusely, burned like someone had cauterized his wound. Sweat beaded up on his forehead from it and he did what he could not to swipe his uninjured hand across his forehead. "It hurts, I'll say that much too." Why he had tried to open a fucking bottle of wine with a knife was beyond him, but Zech had sprung some surprising news upon him and he had a lapse in judgment.