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"You taste like fish biscuits."
Indy's neck craned to peer at the Irishman. The hand fisted in his hair was limiting his movement, but he managed it. The lick to his neck made him shudder and try to get away, even though it likely wasn't happening. "Fish biscuits? What?"
"Who’d have guessed you could pull such a face?”
Indy whimpered. The other man had put him through hours of pain. For sick fun. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed to get himself into this situation; he thought he could trust the Irishman. "I'm pretty sure I never had the opportunity to make whatever face you say I just made," He said, unable to keep the smartass comment to himself.
"Don’t look at me like that."
"How else am I supposed to look at you, Murphy? I didn't expect this shit from you at all!" Indy said, gesturing to the bloody body on the ground. "What other things have I been missing about you?"
