Ushug grunts in reply. She seems surprised at his strength too, pulling her lips back in what's half a smile and half a grimace of effort as muscle strains against muscle. Her brow is locked in concentration, so that at first she doesn't notice when the first tiny sounds of splitting threads begin to be heard. Got to hold steady, get the edge on this loud-mouthed zombi-

There's a long rrrriiiiIIIIP! when the fabric binding Harrow's wrist gives way. Ushug's hand slams his to the table before she clocks what's happened.

"THAT'S what I-ah?" Triumph turns to confusion. Beside them, Marcella clamps a hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her drink again. Ushug looks from his severed wrist, exposed flesh and bone poking out from rent cloth. Lifts the hand still clutched in hers to look at it.

"...Hah. HahahahaHAHAHA!" She plonks his hand back in front of him, leaning on the table as mirth overcomes her.