*Schuldig sighs, irritably, and his eyes turn as cold as Lucifer's voice as he shoves himself off, standing with only a hint of unsteadiness. He's thinking something along the lines of: fuck this.

This is too much like Crawford, anyway.*

Yeah, whatever.

*He snags the dagger from where it dropped, tests it carelessly against his finger.*

Did you want something earlier, or were you just bored?