(Untitled)

[giftedthom]

*Thom, curled loosely against the wall of a booth, is running a finger repeatedly over his bottom lip.

It'll start bleeding again if he doesn't stop.*

Comments

[oldromansaint]

Did someone say... Blood?

Thom is getting a slightly quizzical, warm look from Santino.

[giftedthom]

*He keeps at it, not seeming to notice.

The gesture is very slow; his eyes are very blank.*

[oldromansaint]

The youth who's a pretty boy? continues to hold Santino's attention. Whether it be his purple eyes or something more is yet to be seen. Plus, there is that familiar and delicious metallic scent to him. Not very thick at all, but it's there. And it's certainly enough to get Santino's attention.

But Santino definitely likes the purple irises.

He rose, all black-leather and fluid, dancer-steps, and came over.

"Good evening, sir." Santino said, smiling.

[giftedthom]

*Thom looks up.* -- good evening.

*He holds out the hand that was just at his lips; smiles a little* It's just Thom.

[un_fallen]

He's on his way out, but slows when he sees Thom's injury and distant espression. He almost doesn't stop - after all, he's well aware of where Thom gets most of his injuries. But something about the look on Thom's face makes him cross over to the booth and lean his palms on the table.

"What happened?"

[giftedthom]

*After a moment, Thom comes to; he turns a little towards Raguel and asks*

What -- ?

[un_fallen]

"Your lip. What happened to you? You look like you've just been punched in the face."

[giftedthom]

Adam did that once.

[abtruse_wiggin]

Peter, approaching the booth.

"....someone did a bit of a number of you," he comments, after a moment.

[giftedthom]

*It's a second or two before Thom sees him there.* Maybe.

[abtruse_wiggin]

"Dare I ask?"

Peter leans on the table, studying him.

[giftedthom]

No.