It was so hard to resist every instinct screaming at him to eliminate the perceived threat to his ghosts, even though he understood what was going on intellectually, even though the ghosts themselves weren't afraid -- agitated by the happenings, yes, but not by a sense of danger. Still, Bakura's one hand unconsciously found the hilt of his knife, fingers gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white and bloodless.

Take the subclavian artery on the left, cut up and outward, he'll be unconscious in seconds, dead in under a minute...

The shadows surrounding them were certainly reacting to his level of anxiety over this experiment, even if the ghosts weren't. Red-tinged crackles of lightning crawled through the murk. The thief stared hard at Solomon, seeming almost unnaturally still against the shifting backdrop of darkness. Finally he turned his head slightly, addressing the ghosts instead. "Setemu-ef aa t'et, aakhu-i."

After a moment, one seemed to move into the space which Solomon's shadow was containing.