[Curiously, the wound on Abbacchio's throat seems to be healing on its own, though by what means he couldn't say. He's coughing, breathing almost desperately, his hand finding the front of the other man's jacket.
He's clutching at his neck, confused, jerking away when he feels the slender purple thing try to touch him.]
What the fuck is going on?
[He debates trying to wrench out of the arms holding him and eventually decides that maybe it's better like this because nothing makes sense right now.]
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He's clutching at his neck, confused, jerking away when he feels the slender purple thing try to touch him.]
What the fuck is going on?
[He debates trying to wrench out of the arms holding him and eventually decides that maybe it's better like this because nothing makes sense right now.]