"Been usin' guns since... Since guns," he shrugged his good shoulder, although the idea of a hunter with a musket made him giggle. That would be a slow fucking process, wouldn't it? Gunpowder, wadding, musket ball, fire, gunpowder, wadding, etc. Ariel was still giggling until it hurt his injured shoulder and he whined softly.
He didn't need instructions to put the leather between his teeth, hands then firmly grasping the iron poker. He would try to twist it rather than bend it so it would almost be artistic - if he managed anyway. Ariel didn't need the warning to hang on. The leather almost muffled his agonized-then-angry screaming as Amadeus worked on the first bullet. The problem was that the wound had to be expanded to fit the tool and then the bullet so it was like ripping him open a little wider. The iron bar creaked in his hands as he twisted and there was an immediate fresh flow of blood.