@criimsoncloud answered your ask: "What the fuck happened to your face, V?" He grabs...
V can only nod, slow, and pained. It still hurts, and every single puncture wound was a fierce red, no doubt swimming with infection. Whoever had done this wasn’t gentle, and didn’t care much for V’s comfort; merely wanted to keep the sassy poet shut, and found sweet satisfaction in sewing his lips, rather than gagging him. V shouldn’t have left; shouldn’t have overestimated himself - he was just human, just a simple human–
What had he been thinking?
“Jesus V.” Dante huffed. V’s mouth looked pained, and he carefully pulled the guy away. “I know Lady has some thread clippers.” He guided V carefully back towards his own supplies and Lady’s and Trish’s, unpacking her things and sitting V down.
“I’ll be careful, just stay still.” It was horribly haphazard how the stitching was done. Dante held the back of his head, and carefully found the end of the thread and started at the corner of his mouth, snipping with the thread clipper and working his way across.