#restringersi

what the fuck was that, lu? you dyin’?

N-No. You jus’ caught me off guard.

“I... I talked about his partner. And I just.. I kept going. And he broke my nose Forma. So Suddenl - Ow! Watch it... “ He swatted at Formaggio when he cleared a small patch of blood from his lip, the throbbing over-taking his reflex.

[ He always realized too late that he made a mistake, but to actually get injured - beyond that of the vicious scars running his arms and hands - was out of his own mind. ]

“I already know what look you’re giving me and you can cut it out right now.”

His tone was sour as he bent to scrub the blood from his hands a bit more forcefully than he may have needed to. It wasn’t particularly stuck on, but it made him feel disgusting to have it on his hands at all.

He hadn’t bothered with the body count of this job. Diavolo had wanted them dead, and so they were dead, more than a dozen members of a rival gang fallen to the Grateful Dead.

His skin crawled when he thought about it and he scrubbed harder at his knuckles, sighing when the footsteps came further into the room rather than away.