[ He huffs and doesn't argue because he doesn't trust himself to find the right words, not on the heels of apparently fucking up already, so he nods and nuzzles a horn instead. ]
Let me clean you up, Molls. If you were a plum you'd be pulp by now.
[ Up they go! Tugtugtug on Molly's hands, gotta get off this bed. ]
no subject
Let me clean you up, Molls. If you were a plum you'd be pulp by now.
[ Up they go! Tugtugtug on Molly's hands, gotta get off this bed. ]