Page 4 of How to Flirt with a Hellhound
I looked over and waved, then hopped off the porch and made my way over to his yard. By the time I made it to his steps, he managed a small wave back.
“Morning,” I said, leaning against the railing to the bottom step. I wanted to come onto his porch and snag the hammer out of his hand, but I tried to remember human manners.
“Morning,” he said back, then he waved again, only this time it was the hand with the hammer. I did jump up onto the porch then, grabbing it from his hand before he smacked himself in the head with it.
Toby was not the best with tools.
“Uh, thanks,” he muttered, turning red.
“No problem. Do you need help with something?” I asked, then I realized I had the perfect opportunity to answer Toby’s questions. “I wouldn’t want you to lose a finger or something while hammering,” I said.
He was staring at me, still embarrassed. “Ugh, you saw the last time Josh was here and we tried fixing my mailbox, didn’t you?” he asked, running his hand over his eyes.
I nodded. “All that blood from a wrench,” I commented. “And although you wouldn’t die from it, I certainly wouldn’t want you losing a finger from using a hammer.”
That was overkill, wasn’t it? Shit. I probably shouldn’t bring up losing a finger so many times, but I expected Toby to ask after the first time.
Toby looked at me quizzically. I braced myself for an awkward question, but luckily his curious nature won out.
“You don’t think so?” he asked. “I mean, sure, people lose a finger all the time, but probably losing more than one would kill someone.”
“There aren’t any major arteries in the fingers, so although they might eventually die from blood loss, I think someone could probably lose all their fingers and still survive. Blood clots pretty quickly,” I answered.
Toby had a thoughtful expression on his face. “Hmm. Maybe a whole hand then? Surely if they lost the whole hand they’d die?”
“If no medical treatment was received and no tourniquet was applied, then yes. But with some care someone could survive that as well,” I answered.
“Oh yeah, there was that hiker that cut off his arm when it was stuck in a boulder, and he lived. I saw the movie,” Toby said thoughtfully. “Although I think it was stuck above him and didn’t have blood flow anymore.”
“Yes,” I added. “If the victim had their arms below the heart line, and nothing was done to stem the flow of blood, then amputating an arm would result in enough blood loss to die if steps were not taken to stem the blood flow.”
I had once cut off a hellbound mortal’s arm. I’d gotten through both before he died.
“You could probably cut off both arms before someone bled out,” I added helpfully. “Although I think one would do it. But a person could live with all ten fingers cut off.”
Toby got an odd look on his face then.
Shit. That was weird, wasn’t it. Probably too much information.
Chapter 3
Toby
One of my current projects features a supernatural witch—Josh was right that I was doing something paranormal—so I thought maybe I could have him be tortured and he could magically stop the flow of blood. My poor main character. Readers were going to feel so bad for him. It was gonna be fantastic.
I realized then that I hadn’t said anything, and my neighbor was staring at me.
Dammit. I was totally being weird again, getting lost in book ideas. Josh would so yell at me if he were here.
“I’m a writer,” I explained, like that made everything better. “I’m not, like, a serial killer or anything,” I laughed.
Hot neighbor was still just looking at me.
“Or a stalker. Not a serial killer or a stalker,” I added. Then I could have hit myself in the head. God, could I be any more awkward?
“I’m Toby,” I said, sticking out my hand, because I figured if we talked about dismemberment together I ought to at least introduce myself.
“Dex,” he said, reaching his hand out and enfolding mine within it.
