[ It hasn't escaped Ephemera's notice that they're both bare ass naked in the middle of a crowd. The moment they slow down is the moment things will shift, swing closer toward sex than violence, and he knows this city. He knows, and he refuses to play. Not like this. Never like this. So if that means he laughs like a crazy person as Felix punches him across the temple, then he laughs. Oil running slick through his hair, tickling unpleasantly over his scars and into his socket behind the prosthetic, oil in his fucking throat like the blood Felix spits at him.
He laughs and he doesn't. Fucking. Drop. He surges forward instead, trying to flip them, and goes for Felix's eyes. This was never going to be pleasant. ]
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He laughs and he doesn't. Fucking. Drop. He surges forward instead, trying to flip them, and goes for Felix's eyes. This was never going to be pleasant. ]