Shane was busy setting out an array of strange tools and supplies. “Hold this,” he handed Twilight a purple tube topped with gray plastic caps, apparently appointing her his assistant. He opened up a baggy filled with tiny silver staples. He rested his left arm across his knees and selected a staple, appraising a long tear near his wrist. He took a deep breath and pushed one end into the skin on the edge of a large gash. A pained groan escaped his lips before he muscled them shut. He pinched the incision closed before bridging the staple across and pushing the other end of the staple through the skin on the opposite side. 