[ his smirk is still present, so present even as blood leaks from the corner of his mouth-- as he surveys those eyes. almost black, so black against the blue-- like a bruise, the deepest and darkest bruise.
won't give him the satisfaction though, the bolt of fire that runs along his spine at feeling metal press against his open wound, against that delicate skin-- and he tames down the sudden urge to spit in his face, one last moment of rebellion.
instead, though, he opts for something a little less... abrasive. lifting his hand to graze his thumb underneath the socket of one of those eyes, smiling lightly. proximity is so close, too close for comfort but between the stickiness of blood and bruises and sweat-- it doesn't seem to matter anymore-- ]
How could I ever be disappointed in you, now?
[ nonetheless, it doesn't stop him from dragging the blade of his knife against piter's abdomen. light at first, before pressing harder and harder and harder-- all the while, his smile growing wider and more animalistic with every passing second-- ]