run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
Glad for the help with the blankets, the butcher only unpeels himself as much as necessary. The weighted blanket is surprisingly nice, pressing against his legs with a comfort he didn’t realize he needed. But he doesn’t comment on it, nor does he react, instead he simply shifts enough to help his lover while he works, looking unsurprisingly pale.
It has his jaw set tighter, exhaling slowly through his nose as he silently hopes that the drugs start to kick in soon. He nods a short nod to the Maverick at the announcement, before his lover is tittering about again and the butcher takes a moment to try and slip the sling back on, finding some amount of relief in not having to hold his other arm against his chest.
By the time Danta returns, the butcher’s emotions have calmed, quelled enough for him to sit forward toward the blonde, peering at the bowl of warm water and the cloths. He blinks slowly at the offer, and gods if Danta doesn’t know him so fucking well.
He latches onto the task, forgoing any more self deprecation in order to reach out with the good arm, scooting closer beneath the weighted blanket to Danta, dipping it in the water and wringing it out in his fist. “I can do that.” He says belatedly, voice thick and rough, reaching up to clean away the blood from Danta’s chest, where he’d smeared his blood and tears. It’s slow going but he ensures it’s warm, and the distraction works to let the drugs take hold, relieving the pain in his arm tenfold.
It has his jaw set tighter, exhaling slowly through his nose as he silently hopes that the drugs start to kick in soon. He nods a short nod to the Maverick at the announcement, before his lover is tittering about again and the butcher takes a moment to try and slip the sling back on, finding some amount of relief in not having to hold his other arm against his chest.
By the time Danta returns, the butcher’s emotions have calmed, quelled enough for him to sit forward toward the blonde, peering at the bowl of warm water and the cloths. He blinks slowly at the offer, and gods if Danta doesn’t know him so fucking well.
He latches onto the task, forgoing any more self deprecation in order to reach out with the good arm, scooting closer beneath the weighted blanket to Danta, dipping it in the water and wringing it out in his fist. “I can do that.” He says belatedly, voice thick and rough, reaching up to clean away the blood from Danta’s chest, where he’d smeared his blood and tears. It’s slow going but he ensures it’s warm, and the distraction works to let the drugs take hold, relieving the pain in his arm tenfold.
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
