“You want me to do what, man?” Koller stared hard at the Interpol agent standing in the middle of his dungeon.
“Take this finger off,” Adam gestured to the one he meant. “But make sure we can put it back on. I need to get some aesthetic work done on the casing, and that’s easier without the rest of my hand getting in the way.”
“Aesthetic work?” Václav raised his eyebrows, even as he waved towards The Chair and reached for his tools. “What aesthetic could possibly improve those sleek Sarif fingers?”
“Just a bit of engraving work,” Jensen replied, shrugging out of his coat and making himself as comfortable as possible in Koller’s prized patient chair. “Think of it... like a tattoo.”
The doctor laughed, nudging his own much nicer chair over and setting out a line of screwdrivers, wrenches, and other miscellaneous tools. “You still got skin if you just want a tattoo, man, but you’re not the kind of guy I figured going in for body art, you know?”
Adam was quiet for a long moment, watching from behind his shades as Václav immobilized his arm from the elbow down and then hunched over his hand to work. “It’s been a while since I’ve had any,” he finally murmured, almost talking to himself for all he addressed the other man, “but this is a little different. This… is a promise.”
Koller nodded and, after a moment of thought, shrugged off the heavy mood, humming happily as he worked. A few minutes later, he made a noise of triumph and straightened. “Bring it back within a few days, alright? The longer it’s off, the harder it is to get to reconnect properly,” he warned cheerfully, unlocking the joints of Adam’s elbow and allowing him to move his arm freely again. “And try not to get anything in the socket! Could mess things up pretty bad in there if you’re punching walls and faces and whatever with that hole in your hand.”
Adam nodded in agreement as he took the small box the doctor had scrounged up to hold his detached finger. “A few days. Right. Thanks, Koller.”
“I’d say anytime,” Václav waved Jensen off with a grin, “but I feel like this is probably a one-time thing, eh?”
“Yeah,” Adam’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “It is.”
“You’re such a sap.”
Pale fingers slipped over glossy black, tracing the new grooves etched into one of them. The faint click of metal on metal sounded as a ring knocked gently against the alloy beneath it.
“Guilty as charged,” Adam murmured, face tucked into loose black hair. “It’s just my luck you don’t mind.”
There was a low hum of agreement, more sensation than sound. “Hm. I suppose you’re right.”
Jensen leaned back a little, raising an eyebrow as he tipped his partner’s face up to meet his eyes. “Oh, the great Francis Wendell Pritchard, admitting I’m right?”
A scowl briefly twisted Frank’s mouth before Adam pulled him into a kiss, deep and warm. They eased apart gently, breathing the same air and just relaxing in each other’s presence. Idly, Francis swiped a gentle thumb over the decorative band permanently carved into Jensen’s finger. “Don’t get used to it,” he sighed, leaning in for another kiss.
Adam gave a husky laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”