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Cellbit licks his lips again, just a single taste, before wiping his face with his shirt. He looks up to see Roier staring. Not with distaste, now that what he initiated got even dirtier. No, he looks interested, delighted. There's flecks of blood on his face, too, and Cellbit ignores how pretty they look on him, how his eyes feel as he looks him over. He thinks he might just have found someone crazier than him.
“Roier,” he says, standing up out of his crouch and wiping the blood on the knife off onto his pants. “Do you have a way to get the fuck out of here?”
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