[ It was hardly surprising that Rumlow's body was decorated with scars of old, and the small glimpses that Toreth caught of them had him noting that they were impressive. He wondered, briefly, on the specifics. How it had been done. Whether Rumlow had screamed at the time, or whether he had grit his teeth and took it. Toreth's skills in judging character meant he was leaning towards the latter, but pain did funny things to people. It changed them, broke them down until even they couldn't recognise themselves. That was the whole point, and everyone reached that stage sooner or later. You just needed to apply enough pressure, hopefully enough while not killing.
Toreth spared Rumlow's body about half a second's glance. Long enough to appreciatively note his musculature, but not long enough to be distracted or lewd about it. While he certainly had a nice body, that wasn't really the point right now, and while Toreth liked inflicting pain and he didn't mind a bit of blood, he would be more than alright with not fucking people until their wounds reopened and they bled all over him.
He went ahead with the needle and thread, measuring out an excess before snipping it off with the scissors. ]
[ Dryly: ] Only if you be a very fucking good patient. [ He turned, approaching Rumlow, still making no comment on the state of his back, eyeing the fresh wounds only. ] If you squirm and I jab you in the wrong spot, it's not my problem.
no subject
Toreth spared Rumlow's body about half a second's glance. Long enough to appreciatively note his musculature, but not long enough to be distracted or lewd about it. While he certainly had a nice body, that wasn't really the point right now, and while Toreth liked inflicting pain and he didn't mind a bit of blood, he would be more than alright with not fucking people until their wounds reopened and they bled all over him.
He went ahead with the needle and thread, measuring out an excess before snipping it off with the scissors. ]
[ Dryly: ] Only if you be a very fucking good patient. [ He turned, approaching Rumlow, still making no comment on the state of his back, eyeing the fresh wounds only. ] If you squirm and I jab you in the wrong spot, it's not my problem.