There are stools-- or, something like them, high chairs with no backs-- though as Jason hooks one with an ankle and pulls it closer he has the slightly discomfiting sensation that it was not exactly designed with the human anatomy in mind. He ignores the situation and considers the task at hand.
It hadn't seemed very deep, when he'd touched his own. And it hadn't seemed anchored, but slightly-loose beneath the skin. Presumably it's not drilled into the bone of the skull, just... subcutaneous, which should make the removal fairly simple. (Optimism seems the way to go here.)
The temple has a lot of blood vessels; this is likely going to bleed like the devil, Jason supposes. Well, they have gauze and he's bound more than a few cuts in his time, at least.
Jason settles his free hand on the other side of Anakin's head, firmly, his callused palm securely cradling the young Jedi's skull. (Jason's touch is disconcertingly warm.)
"Is trepanning a thing, in your home... world, or whatever?" Jason asks with conversational curiosity, bracing the heel of his hand on the table's angular edge. "I've performed a few of those."
The shiny edge of the pocketknife-- and Jason thanks Whoever that its owner keeps it sharp, at least-- touches Anakin's skin, cold steel, and Jason exerts careful pressure as he begins to nick a half-moon slice around the edge of the foreign object. His current plan is to cut a centimeter's exit gap, and then attempt to push the object out the little flap, from the other side, with pressure from his fingers.
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It hadn't seemed very deep, when he'd touched his own. And it hadn't seemed anchored, but slightly-loose beneath the skin. Presumably it's not drilled into the bone of the skull, just... subcutaneous, which should make the removal fairly simple. (Optimism seems the way to go here.)
The temple has a lot of blood vessels; this is likely going to bleed like the devil, Jason supposes. Well, they have gauze and he's bound more than a few cuts in his time, at least.
Jason settles his free hand on the other side of Anakin's head, firmly, his callused palm securely cradling the young Jedi's skull. (Jason's touch is disconcertingly warm.)
"Is trepanning a thing, in your home... world, or whatever?" Jason asks with conversational curiosity, bracing the heel of his hand on the table's angular edge. "I've performed a few of those."
The shiny edge of the pocketknife-- and Jason thanks Whoever that its owner keeps it sharp, at least-- touches Anakin's skin, cold steel, and Jason exerts careful pressure as he begins to nick a half-moon slice around the edge of the foreign object. His current plan is to cut a centimeter's exit gap, and then attempt to push the object out the little flap, from the other side, with pressure from his fingers.
That is his plan.