"The funny thing about people is, we pretend like we're different, special. Blessed. But inside?" Farfarello lightly brushed his fingers over the wet, red planes of Caim's abs. "Just meat."

"That six pack you no doubt worked hard to sculpt? It's just a paired muscle, transected by bands of connective tissue. Rendered into its parts, it really doesn't mean anything." Farfarello put down the filleting knife and switched back to the box cutter, not wanting to waste the fine blade on anything he didn't need its precision for. Touching the tip of the box cutter blade to the exposed flesh just below Caim's solar plexus, Farfarello smiled. "And under here, well, guts look the same in every mammal, really, except for size."