#baroquebutcher

to be approached while he is in this state-- his hands soaked in blood, his knife dripping, warm and wet-- it's bizarre. michael doesn't bother hiding what he does when he does it, so yes, he has had people catch him in the act before. he's either killed them or they've been smart and have run away. by the time they returned with police or help, michael was long gone. but this isn't one of those situations. this man is strange, like him. michael looks at him with a tilt of his head, his curiosity piqued. the girl at his feet is actively bleeding out, not really here anymore but not dead quite yet. michael is just slightly annoyed his watching has been interrupted by this stranger. @baroquebutcher

height comparison. @baroquebutcher

" We really should try that trend of two different sets of blankets." He said pulling if off him and more so onto his boyfriend. " That better or should I turn on the fireplace?" He asked, reaching for a cigarette off his nightstand and lighting up. " I think it's supposed to be below freezing today."

“What do you think?”

warning  bells  ring  throughout  her  head,    hackles  automatically  rising  at  the  question.  clawed  fingertips  dig  into  her  palms,   contrasting  the  polite  (too  polite,  too  forced  --  she's  never  been  a  good  actor)  smile  bianca  forces  onto  her  lips.   her  teeth  glint  in  the  light,   too  sharp  for  a  girl  like  her.   black  curls  are  tossed  to  the  side  as  she  tilts  her  head,   eyes  narrowed  as  she  takes  the  other  in.        ❝     why  do  you  want  to  know  who  i  am?     ❞     it  sounds  nonchalant  enough,  almost  playful.

          Spencer takes a slow pull from his glass, cocking his head to the side as he fixes the bartender with a smile. His gaze is calculating yet intrigued. This could prove to be interesting. ❛❛ Tell me your name. ❜❜

Whatever decency between them demineralized in that moment, evaporated in Will’s thinly skinned patience. He hated it when people pitied him, and he hated it when people tried to walk over him. “You’ve lost your mind.” Will’s head juts forward, smashing skull to skull, ignoring the white blaze of pain. His own nose bloodied, and he spits it, eyes furiously bright. “Do you think I won’t fight back? – Who do you think I am? I’m not your pillage.”

@baroquebutcher sent : “ You’re so hard already, and I’ve barely touched you. ”