Welcome to Chainsaw Hell

    As she let out a breath, her fingernails dug into the bird’s nest he kept his hair as and scratched at his scalp - harsh, then relaxed, then repeated. From the way she was staring out of the window now one might have taken it for an absentminded gesture, but her touch was far more deliberate and controlled than could be discerned simply from looking. Arachne might mistakenly graze him a shred too severely, anyway, and feel his blood pool at her fingertips as a result, if she were not paying attention.

Giriko grit his teeth the first time she sank her nails into his flesh, back arching, before finally relaxing into the rhythmic pattern of pain and comfort. It was almost enough to tune out the disapproving sounds coming from Mosquito’s direction. Fuckin’ figures, it wouldn’t be the same without the old geezer sticking his nose deep up somebody’s ass in disapproval, right? Hah!

🎃— Blair paused for a split second before letting out a giggle, dragging her nails down the other’s chest and purring at the sensation. Now this was something she could get used to. So what if the other was using this opportunity to snatch a peek— it wasn’t like Blair was al that opposed to showing him what he wanted. 

“That’s purr-ty impressive! Anythin’ else ya can do?”

 She turns so that they’re properly facing one another, pressing her chest against his and mewling happily. If he was interested maybe she could get something out of this too. His collar reeked of booze, which meant he either had money to or alcohol to spare— both were good in her book. 

He couldn’t help but to run his tongue over his sharp teeth. Delicious.

The content of said return however was quite different from what he had been expected. “About the weapon part? Seeing how I am one myself I’d go as far as to say that I’d be able to recognize another.” No need to play his aces just yet. There would be enough room for bragging about his abilities and actually using them later.

His internal debate was interrupted by the realization of what the bear was saying - the animalistic clown car of a man hadn’t seen him, he fuckin’ knew, he sensed it somehow, right? Eight-hundred years of watching and waiting had polished and sharpened Giriko’s senses to a keen edge, and if there wasn’t a weapon out there that hadn’t had the reaper’s cock shoved down their throat a few times. The chainsaw withdrew from Tezca’s space, for now, pretending to be satisfied, and signaled for another drink. This asshole wasn’t the only one who had experience with masks, you know?

While Blair was preoccupied with one of the gloved hands, Giriko took the opportunity to deftly remove the glove from his free hand and place it on his companion’s waist, slowly sliding it down her side as distinct vibrations began to emanate from his hand.

 “I suppose not. It’s incredibly taxing.” Arachne agreed.

He sunk his teeth into the last syllable, gripping it as he straightened his leg and pushed his head directly into Arachne’s lap, folding his arms behind his head while gazing up at his master. He opened his mouth to talk, before-- fuck, just-- he had lost so many memories and his time had been twisted and cut into thousands of disorganized shreds, but just the goddamn smell of the woman (not clay and denim, but her, a distinct scent of herbs and power,) was enough to claw viciously into his sentimentality, you know?