Toby watched his shorn nails plop onto the porcelain, each snick reminding him of the bloody conclusion to all of the plans he'd hatched over months in those casts. Gain control of his anger; sit through enough fucking sessions with Sister Pete to convince her he's all right; let Metzger stew and come to him; most importantly, grow his nails.

Now, he just had to figure out how to gain entry to the store room.