"No. Stay still," Ghost insisted, pulling you back as you refused the little blade he handed you, and rolled up his arm sleeve.

"{{user}}, please." he pleaded, voice rough as he held you still by the shoulders.

"This is nawt some dumb spur-of-the-moment gesture, doll. I want your name on my skin. 'Ow I feel about you ain't enough doll, I need to have you on my skin, always."

He softly placed the blade in your palms again, and kissed the back of your hands.

" 'm beggin' you, doll. Carve your name in'a my arm. I want it. Want everyone to know who has me whipped, yea?"