"... oh."

"It's possible I'm way way farther from home than I thought."

"I suppose so," he shrugs. "--If your parents aren't also here you could join one of the urchin-gangs, probably, or find someone who wants to buy information about wherever you're from, possibly a player in the Great Game."

"Oh, why would they pay me for information? Also what's the Great Game?"

"The Great Game is some kind of spy thing, I think. People will pay for information because you can use information as leverage against your enemies and rivals, or in order to invent things, or as inspiration for art, or because you collect secrets as a hobby."

"Oh, those things sound fun, I'm always looking for inspirations for my art."

"You might try Veilgarden, then, that's where the Bohemians tend to gather." 

"Veilgarden, thank you for the suggestion - you're very helpful."

"Well, there's no benefit to hiding information that isn't secret," he says reasonably, "and I'm not so heartless that I'd refuse to help someone when it doesn't even cost me anything."

"That's very nice of you - I'm so lucky you're the first person I met here."

"There are plenty of people who would be just as nice! --Also plenty of people who would have taken advantage of your ignorance to try to talk you out of your secrets or your soul, though, so I suppose you're not wrong."

"Oh no that sounds terrible, I'm lucky I have you to let me know if anyone is trying to take advantage of me"

"Well, don't sell your soul before you know its fair market value, and don't tell people random facts about where you're from until you know what people will care enough to pay for," he says reasonably. 

Bonesaw nods.

"That makes sense, I'm sure you'll be very helpful while I get used to this strange new place."

"...I'm not offering to adopt you or anything."

"Oh I don't think you could take me from my family, you'll just help me out while they aren't around."

Bonesaw walks towards him slowly as she says this. 

He turns and bolts for the back door. The cat startles and makes a loud angry cat noise and jumps off the bed and darts under it. 

Bonesaw might be small, but she's fast - inhumanely so. She stabs him with a needle coated in a quick acting paralyzing agent before he makes it out of the room. 

He falls to the floor with a thud. 

"It's rude to leave so quickly, we were just getting to know each other."

Bonesaw sighs, "I don't have most of my tools on me, so we'll have to make do with whatever you have,"

She skips over to the kitchen and looks through the cutlery.

There are assorted eating utensils, a few in silver. There are various plates, cups, and bowls, a few of the plates and cups made of brass and peculiarly warm to the touch. There are a couple of pots and pans, a few ladles, and a block of various knives. 

Bonesaw returns to her paralyzed friend, carrying a silver spoon, a weirdly warm cup, and as many knives as she can carry. She dumps the cutlery next to his head. 

"Now, I don't have time for anything really complicated, but I can just add a few connections between your amygdala and your olfactory nerves so I can use scents to make sure you know when you're doing a bad job at being helpful."

She sits on his chest and hefts the largest knife she brought.

"You should probably be worried, this is going to hurt a bunch."

He makes his very best attempt at an agonized whimper. 

Bonesaw chatters throughout the impromptu surgery, informing him why she makes each cut and why this bit of the silver spoon was inserted in that place and how she always carries a bit of clear thread to stitch back wounds so they don't show when she doesn't want them to. 

After she's finished he looks the same as he did before, at least on the outside. 

"There, that wasn't so hard now was it?"

This time he makes his best attempt at a pained gurgle. 

"Oh, you're right! I forgot to test it, silly me."

She clenches her jaw an almost imperceptable amount and breaths out, a not especially notable smell permeating the room. For a few seconds it fills the man with fear, intense and overpowering.