Each stab came with its own sound, a bright exhale or a girlish grunt that had no business being as cute as it was. Vivienne's face between the strikes was flushed, alive, having the time of her life.
"Wh... why..." Alastair managed between the wounds, the word bubbling up through the blood in his throat.
Vivienne paused with the dagger raised, breathing hard, and looked down at him with her head tilted. Then her nose wrinkled.
"Papa... You stink like a pig."
A giggle burst out of her, bright and offended.
"I told you many times to bathe when you got home! Stinky Papa!" She drove the dagger in again with a petulant "Hmph!" as if the smell were the real crime, then twisted it and left it there. "You never listen to me... Do you know how hard it was to always pretend that I liked sleeping in your arms! Blergh!"
