Adrasteia throws up her hands at the both of these impossible men. What in the Gaze of the Maker did she do to deserve to be in this place, with these men, who want to bleed all over things built for collecting blood.

She knows she can't talk them out of it.

"Fine." It sounds petulant at this volume but she's beyond caring now. "No major points of bleeding. Stay away from the wrists, the inside of the arms. I'll take the pan. Tony?"