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[cephalothorax]

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[cephalothorax]

[...funny. He's seen worse. He's done worse. But seeing Hisoka that way - smelling the thick bloody air... witnessing the mess Hisoka's become... that's...

Difficult. He chokes for a moment, and then feels ill.

And as he steps closer, he hears that labored breath, sees the mottled skin, broken bones and...

Sick doesn't begin to cover it.

The book is in his hand before he's even made the conscious decision to summon it. And in the next moment, he presses a hand to Hisoka's chest, dragging it down to his abdomen. Stitching things together where they're meant to be, pulling things apart where they're not. He starts there, repairing internal damage, because that's the most... important part. The part that might kill him before Chrollo can fix it, if he waits too long.

After that, the arms: bones straightening and knitting themselves back together, skin repairing, bruises fading away.

...he pauses, then, since the danger has passed. Makes sure Hisoka is still... breathing.]

...Hisoka. [His voice is soft and low.] You really are a fool.

[debauchewy]

[Oh worse definitely exists. Hisoka is no where near dead though sitting here long enough- he might be. Infact, most of the damage is- his own fault. Playing too much and allowing too much, and taking shots instead of just dodging when dodging was completely viable.]

[Can't feel it right now, though he hitches a little, things moving, shifting, rebuilding. His body jerks here and there flinching, cracking, but fixing, everything in it's place.]

[His breath stays heavy for a short while, his heart slowly returning to it's usual pace and soon there's not enough pain to keep him asleep, consciousness easing in. Blood no longer painting his pale skin, though he still raises a hand to touch at his own lips. Eyes still closed, feels- nothing, licks them, tastes nothing, a chuckle sounds out under his breath and his hand drops again.]

Myy saavioooor~~

[cephalothorax]

[He's a little too relieved. But Chrollo doesn't say anything at first. He just. Stares. And Hisoka's clothes are still a wreck, so give him a moment while he stitches them back together again even while he says...]

...who were you fighting?

[debauchewy]

Mmn, someone I had been meaning to for a few months now. [Sighs, staying on his back, keeping his eyes closed. He can feel those hands on him again and shivers, his body still sensitive from the fight.]

[cephalothorax]

I'm not certain that qualifies as an answer.

[He sighs, rubs his face. tries to banish the image of Hisoka broken and bleeding from his head.]

[debauchewy]

[Rubbing his face, so his eyes are covered for a moment. He'll feel fingers nudge up under his chin, smooth over a cheek and find Hisoka looking up at him from under low lids. Still laying down, still smiling as content as before.]

Someone I mentioned before. Lancer. Maybe I let him play with me too much~

[cephalothorax]

Clearly.

[Chrollo opens his eyes again, and looks over at Hisoka. And then dips his head down and kisses Hisoka's fingers.]

Idiot.

I'm... glad you contacted me.

[debauchewy]

Of course. [A laugh, lifting his hand away, giving a small shrug, eyes closing again.]

I wouldn't've gone this far if it wasn't for that new trick of yours. [Thanks for being there so he can get away with being stupid.]

[cephalothorax]

...I should punch you for that comment.

[translation: DON'T USE HIM AS AN EXCUSE TO BE A LUNATIC]

[debauchewy]

[A wide smile, pushing to sit up now. His back cracks a little, here and there down his spine and he stretches up his arms before letting them go slack, hands on his lap. He cocks his head, looking over at him, giving a coy smile.]

So? Punch me then.

[cephalothorax]

[ugh. Hisoka.]

I'm not rewarding you for absurdity.

[debauchewy]

Hm~ [A glance down, leaning in a little, slightly turning.]

Then award me for my dependence.

[cephalothorax]

[Chrollo stares at him. And then gives him a very light punch on the cheek. Almost more of a nudge with his fist.]

[debauchewy]

[Slowly turns his head with it, as if it had more force than it did.]

[A chuckle, falling back, flat against the ground again. He runs his hands down his chest, stomach, groin, bucking his hips up and hitching in his breath. He then lets go, curling his head against a shoulder.]

I can't help it- I know, it's sickening isn't it? [Said though, through that still lingering smile.]

[cephalothorax]

[...it is, a bit actually. But he's used to that. Chrollo sighs and then... lies down next to Hisoka on the ground.]

You're going to give me grey hairs. How thoughtless.

[debauchewy]

You might look good with a little salt and pepper. [A laugh.]

But surely I would gain some before you. Young Chrollo~ [A sigh, breathing deep, resting his hands on his stomach.]

You've done so much so young...

[cephalothorax]

It must be the greed in me.

[Always striving him to greater heights. Even though he barely fights, really, so what use is it all?

He turns his head to look at Hisoka.]

...actually. How old are you?

[debauchewy]

[A laugh. The greed? Hm...]

[His age- haven't they spoken of this before? He closes his eyes.]

Twenty eight. [Honesty? Maybe.]

[cephalothorax]

Tsk. That's not much older than I am at all.

[Assuming it's the truth.]

[debauchewy]

And how old is that? [Staying still, accept a hand, fondling at an edge of clothing off the other man, rubbing a knuckle against hip- side.]

[cephalothorax]

Twenty-Six.

[And he rests his hand over Hisoka's.]

[debauchewy]

[A small breath, it hitches in his throat and he smooths his thumb over the other man's skin. His eyes open though, he merely looks up. Through branches, through leaves still small...]

Two years. Not long at all. [Closing his eyes again.] Why is it the young always impress me the most? [A laugh.] Or perhaps, it's the wait that makes me long.

[cephalothorax]

Or potential, I suppose. Although that doesn't explain me.

[Not much does, actually. He's still confused by it.]

[debauchewy]

Hm? [A glance over.]

How doesn't it? Your potential is limitless.

[cephalothorax]

I know.

[No one ever accused him of being humble. But he's not arrogant either - just realistic. And he's aware of what he's made himself into... and what he has still to become.]

...although I don't spend much time on battlefields. Most of the time.

But I think it's just a question of perception. I've never considered myself especially compelling on my own. Only as one part of a larger unit.

That's changed a bit, here. It needed to.