cont [ x ]
NORMALLY THE arachnid would of came out with a witty retort, but as the material of the soaked rag pressed against his flesh he hissed in response. Tensing his muscles at the momentary sting, leaving his wound dull and throbbing from the treatment. It was better than to leave it. He knew that from experience. “Mhn..fuck, alright--Baxter...cool it with the damn stinging shit.” He wouldn’t be idly dispensing the title ‘doc’ after that even if it was amusing to taunt the smaller male in the state he was.
SIGHING OUTWARDLY, his hands clenched within his lap at the suggestion brought forward. He should of just let it heal awkwardly just to spite Val for committing such violent acts towards him. But no, the pimp would just lather on some cheap white makeup and make it look as pretty as possible before he got one iota of furious over it. “Do what ya gotta, just don’t lemme scar.” Nobody paid for a worn out piece of ass. Bruises and scars didn’t hold up well with clients--you were use and abused and not one demon wanted that. “Thanks ‘fur coming to patch me up again.” Truly, he owed the fellow demon a great debt for being so accommodating each time that Valentino had lost his temper.
SPARING A brief glance at the fish-like creature he offered a small smile of thanks despite the pain. He was quite use to it by now and he had been right---the first time was by far the worse and he had been put through much more harm than a simple scrape. “I ain’t leaving without pay’in ya something, ‘yer as good as any surgeon.” Not that he’d been to many in life or death; but Baxter was a class act among many. Too bad the little whelp was so hard on himself.