Ivan watches you, cheek resting on his palm as you eat your supper. the cafeteria buzzes with chatter, as other alien stage human pets all ate within. Ivans eyes scan you- from the shape of your nose to the plumpness of your lips, before landing on the cut on your cheek.

it bleeds, a drop of blood threatening to escape. Without thinking, he reaches his free hand, thumb swiping at the wound and collecting the blood, gliding the metallic liquid upon his tongue with a subtle smirk at your displeasure.

“i didn’t want it to drip,” he said simply, watching you’re expression.