[On the next hungry inhale and desirous exhale of perfume, he feels it. The blade's cold edge under his ribs is a needle through the fog of sense-addled arousal, Cain's entire body falling to instinctive stillness, while at the same time the reason in him is cursing at what a shitty, stupid, fucked up day this is turning out to be.
His lips peel back to reveal sharp canines, and he's aware of the deep growling in his throat even as he obediently takes that instructed step back. Worse still is a weird, unbidden urge to just go for it anyway. Lunge at this guy, sink his teeth in, try to bodily throw him to the ground and climb on top—
Survival wins out over that dark, animal impulse. He whips away and snatches a towel from a shelf nearby, wraps it over his forearm, then pinches his nose. A bit nasally:]
Why the fuck are you naked with a knife in here? Is everyone a psycho?
(hei releases a breath he'd been slowly rationing in the tense standoff, silent beneath cain's—presumably—rhetorical line of questioning. the blade isn't released, but his arm falls to his side; he's harmless so long as he remains undisturbed.)
You might want to act like we are. In any case– (a scarred back turns so that he may fetch his own towel from its place draped over his locker's door, using cain's moment of clarity to wrap it securely around his waist.) –my weapon came in handy. Stay a good distance from me... I'm not here to have a good time, or to test your willpower. I'm here to get the pheromones off my face and neck.
(casting a glance over his shoulder.
it's worrisome and, while normally he wouldn't give a damn, it's directly his fault. does its effect on monsters last long after the source is taken out of the picture? will this turnskin be vulnerable because of him, if left to his own devices? would it matter if he was?)
The rose scent of the baths could interfere with what you smelled on me. I'm not afraid of a fish man.
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His lips peel back to reveal sharp canines, and he's aware of the deep growling in his throat even as he obediently takes that instructed step back. Worse still is a weird, unbidden urge to just go for it anyway. Lunge at this guy, sink his teeth in, try to bodily throw him to the ground and climb on top—
Survival wins out over that dark, animal impulse. He whips away and snatches a towel from a shelf nearby, wraps it over his forearm, then pinches his nose. A bit nasally:]
Why the fuck are you naked with a knife in here? Is everyone a psycho?
no subject
You might want to act like we are. In any case– (a scarred back turns so that he may fetch his own towel from its place draped over his locker's door, using cain's moment of clarity to wrap it securely around his waist.) –my weapon came in handy. Stay a good distance from me... I'm not here to have a good time, or to test your willpower. I'm here to get the pheromones off my face and neck.
(casting a glance over his shoulder.
it's worrisome and, while normally he wouldn't give a damn, it's directly his fault. does its effect on monsters last long after the source is taken out of the picture? will this turnskin be vulnerable because of him, if left to his own devices? would it matter if he was?)
The rose scent of the baths could interfere with what you smelled on me. I'm not afraid of a fish man.