The thing about that sharp pain was that it was the first real thing he'd felt in ages. He hated that it was brought on by the man he hated most. Numbness was a thing he'd gotten comfortable with and again Moriarty threatened to take his comfort zone. It made his blood boil. Moriarty had taken so much already, why could he simply not continue to exist without him in his shadow? What had he done to deserve this hell? And really he wondered what hell would have been like if they lost this fight with Lucifer, would much change?
"Two just seems like a lot of work really." He offered a faint shrug. Moving too much wasn't very easy with his arms bound. "Only way you can beat me is with my hands behind my back. Bit pathetic really.." If he could make him angry enough maybe he would slip, but Moriarty was probably too smart to slip. Still the demon was a little different. Maybe there was still a chance to get away. Why did he want to though? No matter where he ran Moriarty always showed up. No. If he was freed, he'd shoot him. Again and a lot.
And exorcise him. All of the Latin, all of the shooting. But for now, there was little more he could do then try to appear unphased by the torture treatment. He'd not genuinely felt anything since Sherlock died. He'd only been going through the motions. He was more than ready to move on, but did he still even have feelings anymore? He watched friends thrive, gain relationships, and he remained alone. Disconnected in a way. Tired of being emotionally beaten down as always seemed to be the end result of these sort of things.
Honestly he was tired. Emotionally drained.
"Didn't say that." He said with a raise of a sandy blond brow. He had others counting on him to keep himself alive.