Xanti began the morning with green leaf tea and a morning meditation. During this time, Vale burst in with an explosion of black feathers. The two didn’t speak, but Vale cackled as xe spat fire to torches and the wood beneath a cauldron—and the kettle for Xanti’s tea—and, at some point, Xanti sneezed from a stray feather.

Vale hadn’t much time for chit-chat (something about Requiem and lava buffer overflow error?), but the raven dropped off a collection of poetry for Kane. Silvia Plath’s Ariel. Edgar Allan Poe. Tao Te Ching, which seemed to be the closest thing Vale had to a Bible. Then a caw of a goodbye, another burst of gore, and—now a vulture—xe flew out of the Doctor’s caves.

In Vale’s absence: silence. The bubble of boiling water. The occasional clatter of metal-on-metal or a splash.

Silence, even when Xanti began xyr work. In full view of Kane. Today’s work? Two bush vipers with one non-sentient and the other hissing curses until, well, the dissection began.

All the while, the cheetahcore lazily blinked at the two snakes as they depleted into a collection of parts. Xanti didn’t touch anything; xyr telekinesis, conjuration, and assortment of other minor magics kept xyr paws tucked beneath xyr body. Xe was unmoving serenity and focus.

The dissections seemed to conclude arbitrarily. Xanti stopped writing down notes, stopped weighing individual organs. The floating surgical tools neatly tucked themselves into a boiling cauldron.

One of the snake’s eyes drifted to Xanti, and xe chomped it. This was, perhaps, the only movement the cheetah had made in over two hours.

Xe ate the treat. Wiggled xyr jaw until it popped. And then xyr golden eyes slid to Kane’s cell.

“I suppose I’ve been a terrible neighbor. But, as far as prisoners go, you’re tolerable.”

While Xanti listened to the fox’s reply, the cheetah stood up and stretched. Front paws outstretched. Spine arched—pop pop pop of the vertebrae—and a scrunched face before xe stood up. Xe shook out xyr rear paws one at a time as xe meandered around the surgical table and towards the cell bars. “You’re more considerate than I expected. I appreciate that.”

The remaining three eyes orbited xyr head in slow circles. Like a living diorama of Mars and its two moons. Especially after an eye passed in front of Xanti’s muzzle and xe chomped it, too, not unlike a snapping turtle.

Xe sat in front of the bars. Xyr golden gaze swept over the title of the discarded book before xe took in Kane’s facial expression and body language. Seemed like both of them were in the mood to talk, eh? Might as well utilize this rare window of shared introverted socialization.

“I think Vale will be by in the afternoon for your project. Not sure when. Has to do with… ugh, some inquisitor job?” Xanti shrugged.  Then yawned. “But I think I’m done for today.”

Xe blinked slowly. Then glanced around the doctor’s caves. Obviously, the prisoner shouldn’t be given anything sharp or dangerous, but most surgical tools fell in that category. “You mentioned something to Vale about… science experiments?” By the confused gleam in Xanti’s eyes, clearly Vale hadn’t communicated word for word what Kane had done. “I suppose it must be frustrating, being so close and yet so far—” Xe tapped a paw on the metal bar. “—from restarting your research. Maybe you can tell me about that, and we can figure out how to keep you from going stir crazy in there.”

Then another eyeball passed close to xyr muzzle, and xe chomped that, too. One eyeball left in its lazy, lonely orbit.

“You killed your mentor, yet continued his research… if only for a time. There’s an interesting story there. But, hey, I guess we're not friends yet.” Xanti’s manticore tail slowly wrapped around xyr paws.

Then the cheetah shrugged. An ear flicked. “But I do not think your interest in how others tick is unusual for our kind. Every surgeon I’ve met is a psychopath.”

“Surgeons either start their career as psychopaths or become psychopaths in the process. Anyone else succumbs to guilt over even the most trivial of mistakes.” The cheetah snorted in amusement. “Statistics. It is impossible to do anything without making mistakes. Yet the prosocials think they will be the exception and save every life on their table, never error, like a storybook hero… a bit narcissistic, aren’t they? Fools.”

Xanti hesitated, glanced to the side and up as xe remembered a conversation with Vale. “But you are unusually non-collaborative for a psychopath.”

Xanti blinked, then shrugged. “Personally, I don’t see much difference between surgery and slaughter. The same psychopathic traits are required for both. But a surgeon has intelligence, self-discipline, and collaboration. While a serial killer? He leaves victims without learning anything in the process. What a waste of time and effort.”

“So, tell me, what did you learn from experimenting on creatures and corpses?” Xanti’s head tilted.