[So maybe that was wishful thinking, to assume they'd made an agreement and could now forget all this. He'd attacked Armando, he can agree to that, and despite not actually hitting the guy, he knew how gangs and mobsters worked. It was all about saving face; you let one guy jump you, next you've got guys trying to get away with more and more. It's all about fear, just like Armando had said.
He barely feels the cut, as sharp as the blade is, but he he sees it, his arm recoiling just slightly in instinct to get away as he gasps out a sharp;] Ah!
[The first of what could be many. It's not as bad as it could be, clean cut and relatively painless beyond a constant stinging from the nerve endings that stayed intact, but deep enough that it's pumping out a far amount of blood on the initial cut, covering his tattoo and down to where his elbow is settled. At least the blade is sharp.
He barely flinched as the knife came thudding down beside him, steeling himself for what's to come with slow, deep breaths that stutter occasionally due to a thrumming anxiety he never has been able to control. The pause in play is almost worst than continuing, his eyes flicking up towards the mirror in an attempt to catch what's going on behind him, although dropping it again when he catches on to the fact Armando's undressing.
The next thing he sees is a sleeve of white silk and then the blade is back in action, his eyes following it until it gets out of view up towards his collar bone. The deep scrape across his chin has him hissing out sharply, but he doesn't move. In fact, he's all but frozen as he feels the cool blade far too close to his ear for his liking. He's seen those movies where ears come off, he'd rather avoid that, even if it does mean enduring Armando's hot breath against his ear and-- was that his tongue?
That knife is the only thing that's stopping him from jolting away.]
Jesus, you sick fuck. That is not my fuckin' problem. Just get a whore from outta state.
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He barely feels the cut, as sharp as the blade is, but he he sees it, his arm recoiling just slightly in instinct to get away as he gasps out a sharp;] Ah!
[The first of what could be many. It's not as bad as it could be, clean cut and relatively painless beyond a constant stinging from the nerve endings that stayed intact, but deep enough that it's pumping out a far amount of blood on the initial cut, covering his tattoo and down to where his elbow is settled. At least the blade is sharp.
He barely flinched as the knife came thudding down beside him, steeling himself for what's to come with slow, deep breaths that stutter occasionally due to a thrumming anxiety he never has been able to control. The pause in play is almost worst than continuing, his eyes flicking up towards the mirror in an attempt to catch what's going on behind him, although dropping it again when he catches on to the fact Armando's undressing.
The next thing he sees is a sleeve of white silk and then the blade is back in action, his eyes following it until it gets out of view up towards his collar bone. The deep scrape across his chin has him hissing out sharply, but he doesn't move. In fact, he's all but frozen as he feels the cool blade far too close to his ear for his liking. He's seen those movies where ears come off, he'd rather avoid that, even if it does mean enduring Armando's hot breath against his ear and-- was that his tongue?
That knife is the only thing that's stopping him from jolting away.]
Jesus, you sick fuck. That is not my fuckin' problem. Just get a whore from outta state.