"You're awake, sorry, I have to let you asleep," Rosa comments as she pats me on the head. My thumb isn't painful anymore. I lift my left hand, and my thumb is gone with some skin stitch on top of it. The thumb is as flat as if it were never there. "I hope you don't mind losing one of your thumbs."
I am sleeping in a bed, with Rosa wearing the same lab coat as what Ostwald wore, but she's also wearing a rubber glove. What she has done to my thumb, though. It looks as if the thumb is never there, to begin with. She must have sawed the rest of the bone for aesthetic purposes. I can tell, even thought the whole hand is covered in thin layer of bandage.
"I wonder though, your sister also comes here with the exact same complain," Rosa sighs. "Albert is certainly one hell of a gunsmith, creating a rifle like that." She points out the rifle that we created together. It looks as if the rifle is out of this world. Of course, the only part missing is a proper scope.
