[Speaking of not controlling responses: Paul tenses slightly at the idea of doing this without mitigation, a mixture of hesitation and reflexive wariness that's nearly fear. But: there's the towel under his palm, soft whorls of thread under his fingertips, and recognizing that he's being comforted doesn't mean it doesn't work. So he nods his agreement, his still slightly widened eyes meeting Palamedes' so he'll be assured Paul is sincere.]

Not reacting is one of the first things I learned. [He steadies himself, feet flat but not braced against the floor.] What kind of trick is it?

[He's apparently never going to not be asking about magic, even in the face of trying to calm his nerves without actually calming them.

True to his word, when the scalpel bites into his skin Paul keeps his hand still. His face is a different story, his lips thinning into a pale line as he allows a carefully throttled exhale through his nose. On an abstracted level of thought, Paul mildly regrets not going through with the box test a second time after all, for the practice. His blood is red and unremarkable, no moonlight in this room to illuminate it.]

...that could have been worse.

[Paul looks up and half-smiles in a way that's almost sheepish in its relief. Over-anticipation is as much a trap as under-preparation. The uncomfortable possibility of flinching in front of Palamedes had been worse than the certainty of the cut, he realizes in the clarity of pain, and he didn't.]

You can keep going. Is dissection a thing all necromancers learn, or a specialization?