[He's angry. He's so angry. That anger has always been there, simmering, and Silco has done nothing but dredge it up. Oh, he's tempted.]
[A little snap of the jaw, and that would be it. A crushing of bone. And that thumb would be removed as easy as anything.]
[He could do it.]
[He could.]
[The pain sinks into him, and his eyes flicker, like agitated fireflies-
before he pulls back with a hoarse cough. No, he's not backing off completely.]
[His hand moves from his shoulder to find Silco's hair and yank it back. Vergilius presses in his mouth to the crux of his jaw, sighing - he's shaking. He's trying to calm down, his words murmured into his pale skin.]
....I don't want to kill you. You dimwitted bastard.
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[A little snap of the jaw, and that would be it. A crushing of bone. And that thumb would be removed as easy as anything.]
[He could do it.]
[He could.]
[The pain sinks into him, and his eyes flicker, like agitated fireflies-
before he pulls back with a hoarse cough. No, he's not backing off completely.]
[His hand moves from his shoulder to find Silco's hair and yank it back. Vergilius presses in his mouth to the crux of his jaw, sighing - he's shaking. He's trying to calm down, his words murmured into his pale skin.]
....I don't want to kill you. You dimwitted bastard.