He reaches over, picking up the weasel creature, which hung like a wet washcloth, but he did his best. "You find where the arteries are closest to the surface, make one cut. Heart does the work for you." Fresh blood, straight from the heart, efficiently squirted out the one exit. "You have a blade sharp enough?" It's a question--he can't tell what exactly is what in that tangle of limbs.

"Also saves the muscle for those who eat that." You know sharing with others. You know what, though? Screw it. He's hungry and though most of the blood has been drained out for ...what? robot skincare? Whatever. There was still something he could make of it. He starts peeling the fur off, because even Flesh Tearers don't like furry mouths, crunching down on some bones. Hey. You weren't going to eat it, right?