[[Backdated to December 31st.]]As he'd expected, the wound in his leg had left the king of thieves limping for a little over a week. Now, he'd had to walk enough of a distance that the steady, familiar ache had greeted him once again and he was leaning across the hallway from Bakura's door
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He kept one hand on the Rod, though he was eager to go inside. He knew that it was pretty much guaranteed he'd be recognized, but with the Item that wasn't much of an issue. He was planning on many things locking this whole incident out of the weakest Bakura's mind anyway when they left. (If he left anyone there alive at all. The night was young, and he wasn't going to limit his options.)
As far as being able to cause mayhem, though, he was at a disadvantage. He wanted wasn't much better off than Bakura. The wounds in his back had only healed to the point that they didn't pull open when he moved too much; they still hurt and they still made doing anything with his arms ( ... )
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"Open it?" he repeated, clearly in disbelief. He shook his head, "This entire thing is your fault. You suffer the consequences and knock on the fucking door." Malik had been the one to decide that they needed to 'play' on his birthday. It was a nice change of pace to see him end up being the one that was injured worse, but Bakura certainly wasn't going to show him any sympathy. "I should have made you carry me here."
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Malik rounded on him slowly. "You wanted to go to the party," he replied. "This boy is a Bakura, ne?" His smirk faded a little in irritation. "Besides, you're the thief, can't you pick the lock?"
He edged him slowly towards the wall. "Isn't that something you're good at....?"
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He didn't mean it, it was more just a bitter idea, though it wasn't exactly something he could put past the other.
Maybe he could yell for the other Bakura?
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