Even if his true strength had been inhibited by the brat's innately weaker physical limitations, the Supreme King of Curses had not forgotten about Satoru Gojo's attempt to use him as a chair. He'd so been looking forward to pulling the sorcerer's entrails out to fashion a perverse mala of sorts, but knowing more about his abilities had caused him to reconsider his plans for the man.
"Perhaps I'll keep one of those eyes as a trophy..." he mused aloud, lips pulling back to into a knife's edge of a smirk. Sharp talons for nails scraped at the hem of the fabric wrappings covering Gojo's upper visage almost idly.
“Just one? Why not both?” Satoru smiled lopsidedly.
He reached up, hooking a fingertip over the upper curve of the fabric to pull it down in one smooth motion. An unhesitant reveal of those very eyes which shone with lazy amusement to match his unworried demeanour. “If you’re going to that much trouble, you might as well keep the rest of me too. Never know when you might be missing something you once thought to throw away.”
“Sorry to say, you’re not the first to want a piece of me.”