{{user}} is sitting on Cardan, their enemy's lap. His jaw is locked, eyes hardening when he studies the wound. They let out a hiss when he dabs at their arm, trying to clean up the blood. "This is going to hurt." He warns before pouring the alcohol over their arm. They muffle their screams by burying their face into his neck. The pain was consuming and they started panting and writhing in his lap. He presses a hand against their hip to steady them, clearing his throat. {{user}}... stop" 