Wine and dine me? Or eat me up? [A sane man would know to not rile a man who could bring him within an inch of his life. In a battle and in bed. It just so happens that Wriothesley is not a sane man because riling up the other was just too much fun.
He does take the cup and drinks, the coolness soothing against his parched and aching throat. He leans into Pinocchio's touch a little, like a dog happy to get pets.]
I will tell you now that anymore and I won't be able to get out of bed, so if you're going to throw my back out with your excitement, I'd like to know now. [He places the half finished glass onto the bedside table.] Mostly, I have something for you, but I'm gauging if I'll have the energy to do anything about it, sunshine.
[ There may come a time when that might bite Wriothesley in a way he doesn't like, but fortunately for them both, Pinocchio isn't far enough out of his mind that he can't resist the dark impulse that wants to make him his so thoroughly there's nothing left for anyone else.
He turns his eyes away from Wriothesley with a tight smile, as though mollified by his acquiescence — and amused by his cheek. Both are true. ]
Perhaps another time, then.
[ Now, does he mean throwing Wriothesley's back out, or does he mean 'doing anything about' whatever Wriothesley has for him? Both? Pinocchio takes the glass from him once drained, setting it aside. The cloth is still warm in his hand, lightly fragrant with soap, and he smoothes a corner of it over his brow, pushing the damp hair back, a steel knuckle gently tipping his chin up as he wipes down from temple to jawline. ]
Though... I wish to ask if you have any tools I might borrow for a day or two. If it's any trouble, then pray forget I asked.
[The boxer is completely pliant to Pinocchio's touch. He lets them carefully wipe his skin down with the dampened cloth, their free hand carefully tilting his body every which way they need to move them. There's a gentle sigh as it soothes his aching body.
There's a slight tilt of his head, a curious expression on his face.]
You are free to use them. I don't mind. [He moves to sit up finally, a low groan as he feels the ache of his muscles complain.] What do you need them for though? That is, if you don't mind me asking.
no subject
He does take the cup and drinks, the coolness soothing against his parched and aching throat. He leans into Pinocchio's touch a little, like a dog happy to get pets.]
I will tell you now that anymore and I won't be able to get out of bed, so if you're going to throw my back out with your excitement, I'd like to know now. [He places the half finished glass onto the bedside table.] Mostly, I have something for you, but I'm gauging if I'll have the energy to do anything about it, sunshine.
no subject
He turns his eyes away from Wriothesley with a tight smile, as though mollified by his acquiescence — and amused by his cheek. Both are true. ]
Perhaps another time, then.
[ Now, does he mean throwing Wriothesley's back out, or does he mean 'doing anything about' whatever Wriothesley has for him? Both? Pinocchio takes the glass from him once drained, setting it aside. The cloth is still warm in his hand, lightly fragrant with soap, and he smoothes a corner of it over his brow, pushing the damp hair back, a steel knuckle gently tipping his chin up as he wipes down from temple to jawline. ]
Though... I wish to ask if you have any tools I might borrow for a day or two. If it's any trouble, then pray forget I asked.
no subject
There's a slight tilt of his head, a curious expression on his face.]
You are free to use them. I don't mind. [He moves to sit up finally, a low groan as he feels the ache of his muscles complain.] What do you need them for though? That is, if you don't mind me asking.