ownlittleprison: (but the melody lingers on)
Mick St. John ([personal profile] ownlittleprison) wrote in [community profile] taxonomites 2012-10-16 10:04 am (UTC)

[location: Mick's place]

Forehead, neck, across his chest, arms and wrists... He can imagine the same marks can be found around his waist, thighs and ankles, but he's not about to look.

Mick takes a seat on the coffee table just slightly to the side but facing Scott just the same. Then he breathes in - and it doesn't matter that it's habit, he still isn't sure he wants to know.

What brief flashes he gets are by far enough to give any man chills. Cold, sterile surrounds, too bright lights and the sickening sounds of surgery and struggle.

On a less traumatic note, the smell tells him one good thing. "No signs of infection. It smells clean, and looks it. I'm going to touch your face, but it'll be over in a second."

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