Hot? Not so much. His blood was cool as a corpse-- fittingly. Living though, yeah, that was something he was and really, at this moment, wanted to motherfucking stay. There's nothing quite like seeing one's own blood flow between another's teeth, but he's never quite had a close up show like this.

His flesh is torn off in a great chunk. It's the price of his freedom but fuck if it don't pull from him another cry. He can take a lot of pain. It don't mean it hurts less or that he can make on being more silent for it. That's not a bit of his old avoxing as what he managed to keep.

But at least with pain he can think. The daywalkers off-balance. He lifts a foot high to kick the motherfucker back, and then while that stumbling's going up and on, he spins in a proper round-housing at the nugbone.