Farfarello was beyond worn down, completely exhausted by the effort of keeping his battered body functional, but it didn't matter so much in his position--he wasn't doing anything strenuous, really, as long as he stuck to the more subtle tortures in his repertoire. Anyway, Schuldig would come back and yell at him if he lost track of time and let himself get too close to death.

Each of Caim's remaining fingernails was given the same slow, careful attention until the last one, the pinkie nail, was torn free and thrown aside. The ends of the fingers on Caim's left hand looked like so much raw meat, and blood was oozing from the wounds slowly. "Hey, Caim. I'll give you a choice. Which would you rather lose first, your useless flap of tongue, or an ear?"