[ his mouth twitches in a wince, as the blood's let. if he were making a show of his composure, carrying on as the strong and most importantly disaffected weapon he'd been made to be, he wouldn't allow himself to twitch at something like this. but for the two of them, for what it is... a gift, from one to another...

He holds onto Muffin with his tail and what's there of his thighs, and in a drowsier voice, ]

How much... did he need it to hurt?