Carver sighed as Barrel set her down. "Thanks." She didn't say, "It's not your fault," because in her mind, it pretty much was. But now was not the time to bicker, and she needed to stay calm or she wouldn't manage to get through her punishment. 

The pumpkin creature stayed silent for the next several hours, barely acknowledging Barrel and Behemoth as they continually brought her more things to carve. She put just enough effort in to keep Jack off her back, not doing anything fancy or challenging with the faces. A lot of them weren't even faces. Probably the laziest six were just arced slits that she could sort of argue were supposed to be tomb stones. By the time Doctor Finkelstein came to retrieve her for the evening, she'd had plenty of time to bury her anger at Lock and Barrel, get over her terror of Jack, and stew in her indignation. 

"Well, well, [i]well[/i]," he said as he wheeled up to her. "Sitting quietly, fulfilling your purpose without complaint or diversion... It's [i]marvelous[/i] to see you finally functioning [i]properly[/i]."

Carver let out a screech of a volume and pitch only possible due to her utter lack of vocal cords, and launched herself off the table at him. In a blind rage, she wrapped most of her vines around his face and chest and used the rest to wrestle with his brain cap. He shrieked, swaying and squirming to try and get her off. In their struggle, the control switch on his wheelchair was repeatedly knocked around, causing the chair to move back and forth and spin about in place. One of the wheels fell into a large gap between two pieces of cobblestone. A few moments later, a another jam of the control switch sent the chair tumbling over sideways. 

Carver managed to get the brain cap open just as they both fell out of the chair, and Finkelstein's remaining half of a mind flopped out onto the street. She didn't have time to figure out what to do from there; Jack came running around a corner to investigate and intervene.