[How lucky. Are they lucky? Vergilius would like to think so. He might be the first person on this world to step forward and accept the deathly weight of his karma taking him down below into hell, but here, now, where Silco does his thorough work, he believes he must be the luckiest in this whole mess.]
[He can't stand the man. He has to let him in, over and over again, because he can't get enough. Fixers know never to get close to others. You lose people as easy as anything. And yet he never quite learned his lesson, did he? Silco bites into him, communicates as monsters do, and-]
[He doesn't feel quite so lonely, like this. As if he could fill even an ounce of the void within him. The hunger.]
[He wishes, fretfully, that these marks could last a little longer.]
[Another gasp, another low sound that comes from his throat - and he's pulling back to really let Silco hear it. His little reward, to eke out such noises from a usually stoic man, his breaths edging into whines.]
Silco.
[Begging for more. He reaches to grasp the man by the side of his face, almost a carress, but its to keep him where he is, at his chest.]
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[He can't stand the man. He has to let him in, over and over again, because he can't get enough. Fixers know never to get close to others. You lose people as easy as anything. And yet he never quite learned his lesson, did he? Silco bites into him, communicates as monsters do, and-]
[He doesn't feel quite so lonely, like this. As if he could fill even an ounce of the void within him. The hunger.]
[He wishes, fretfully, that these marks could last a little longer.]
[Another gasp, another low sound that comes from his throat - and he's pulling back to really let Silco hear it. His little reward, to eke out such noises from a usually stoic man, his breaths edging into whines.]
Silco.
[Begging for more. He reaches to grasp the man by the side of his face, almost a carress, but its to keep him where he is, at his chest.]