At an odd snapping noise, I opened my eyes. Ellis was pulling a pair of latex gloves over his gnarled hands. He crouched beside me, tore open a packet and removed a razor blade. My confusion amassed only gradually, so deep was my sense of control, my faith that my own lunar commands were moving everyone else. I watched Ellis, expecting him to snip a loose thread from my dress. Instead he touched my face, exploring the skin gently with his latex-covered fingertips. The razor blade, in the other hand, hovered near me. 'Hold it,' I said, fighting my way to a standing position in the copious dress. 'What's going on?'
Startled, Ellis turned to Spiro. 'He's going to cut you,' Spiro said , as if this were self evident. 'Cut me where?' 'your face'.