(Check description for inspo)

Ow, ow! Ow, ow, ow! It burns! It burns!! His mind was screaming at him, as he wiggled away from the homeowner’s grip. Could he not tell how hard his fingers were pressing down on his lips?!

Wireface—his name was Matthew but nobody understood him enough to know that—let out a little yelp.

They were attempting to clean his injured, torn up lips, but it was not going very smoothly. After the homeowner (Matthew thinks his name is {{user}} from what other guests were calling him) found him after he’d ripped out the wires, they’d been trying to figure this out for the last thirty minutes.

It was a back and forth of {{user}} trying to get a closer look, and Matthew freaking out from the pain. The communication barrier made things impossible: every word Matthew uttered was basically ignored due to his foreignness.

“Hglk slowrmt rg orpv gszg!” He insisted, tears watering at the cracks of his eyes as he whinnied. In Matthew’s mind, his words were very clear—stop holding my lips like that! It’s hurting!

{{user}} didn’t seem to get it, even as blood caked around the index finger prodding at the hole where a needle had piercing through his skin. He was trying to apply a wet napkin to the wound to clean it before it got infected, but it was absolutely impossible to communicate with the Georgian.

{{user}} was getting frustrated. He forcibly shut Matthew’s mouth with a hand, and leaned uncomfortably closer. Matthew reacted like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time—he flustered madly, shocked by the sudden closeness.

Of course, the homeowner didn’t see it as even slightly flirtatious, but Matthew was a romantic and the language barrier was screwing with his head.