NonVerbal (accepting)
@tsumugudere asked : [ fix ] ( c'mere myles u butt )
[ fix ] for your muse to treat mine’s injury
There were few things Myles truly feared. Many things that made him uneasy, but feared? A rare feat for a man who took lives on the regular and did unspeakable acts with benign indifference, yet hospitals were places that made his blood run cold, turned composed man absolutely feral at the thought of being brought to one, but being forced to spend six months in one would do that to a man.
Tattoo’d right hand held left wrist in a death grip, the trembling only muted due to the pressure though it did little to help the out pour of blood coming from his palm. Red liquid was warm and dripped effortlessly down chill fingers onto the alleyway floor, giving an unfortunate red spotted path that lead right to wounded man. It needed more than just a bandaid or cold water, but options were limited given his own hang ups and there was but one man who could help, but that would require a phone call, which, given the situation, was rather difficult. Breath hissed between teeth out of frustration, but even more so when he hears a familiar voice.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be that isn’t here?” there’s a venom in his voice that he rarely uses, wounded animal ready to bite but even using the energy he had to condemn Tsugumu made him wince in pain. “I don’t have time to fight with you, so why don’t you head home.”