Now that she wasn't healing him and rushing him from place to place, Eugene finally had enough time to glance over and see what Rapunzel was carrying. "Frying pan! Man, have I missed those. Brings back memories, you know? You with the frying pan, me tied to a chair with a possible concussion and the worst wet willy a guy could ask for...ah, the good old days." It really wasn't that long ago, was it? Just a few days. But if Rapunzel had been here for ten days--and, more importantly, if it really was winter instead of the height of summer--then maybe it was longer than he cared to think.
A glint of metal in the corner of his eye caught Eugene's attention. Rapunzel wasn't just carrying a frying pan. In her other hand, she held a thin, wicked-looking dagger, one that he recognized instantly. How could he not? "Is that...?" But he didn't even need to ask. This was the weapon that had killed him. Or very nearly killed him; he still wasn't sure how that worked.
He stopped suddenly and clutched his side as the memory sent a sharp jolt of phantom pain through the healed wound. He couldn't take his eyes away from that knife.
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Now that she wasn't healing him and rushing him from place to place, Eugene finally had enough time to glance over and see what Rapunzel was carrying. "Frying pan! Man, have I missed those. Brings back memories, you know? You with the frying pan, me tied to a chair with a possible concussion and the worst wet willy a guy could ask for...ah, the good old days." It really wasn't that long ago, was it? Just a few days. But if Rapunzel had been here for ten days--and, more importantly, if it really was winter instead of the height of summer--then maybe it was longer than he cared to think.
A glint of metal in the corner of his eye caught Eugene's attention. Rapunzel wasn't just carrying a frying pan. In her other hand, she held a thin, wicked-looking dagger, one that he recognized instantly. How could he not? "Is that...?" But he didn't even need to ask. This was the weapon that had killed him. Or very nearly killed him; he still wasn't sure how that worked.
He stopped suddenly and clutched his side as the memory sent a sharp jolt of phantom pain through the healed wound. He couldn't take his eyes away from that knife.