[ He rolls his eyes, expression flattening into something far more deadpan. No point in humoring that with an actual answer to that. ]
Right. [ When the younger man sits up, Bigby moves his hand against Dodger's back next. ] Is that why you've said two words about yourself since we've met?
[ It doesn't matter, and he doesn't really know why that bothers him as much as it does, but he leaves it at that. Back to focusing on the wounds, he leans a bit closer, head tilting to look over the mark on the other's neck. Bigby should get to dressing it but something else compels first.
His hand slides up to the nape of Dodger's neck, holding it in place as he presses his lips against the gash. While he laps up more blood, the way his tongue moves is noticeably different than before. Gentle. Tender. Like caring for a packmate than tasting a meal. When he pulls back, he carries on, saying nothing. ]
Keep this arm up.
[ The hand at Dodger's neck moves to lift it before he unrolls more gauze, starting at the wound and looping around under said arm a few times until eventually tying it off. ]
[Dodger averts his gaze, suddenly finding some spot on the floor very interesting. He does think to argue that the scars and tattoos should make it pretty obvious he's shady, even if the powers don't mean anything to Bigby. But he's distracted by the lips on his neck, and he mindlessly tips his head to give Bigby better access. It's... soft, intimate in a way he's not really sure what to do with, but he likes it. And his face ends up turning red by the time Bigby pulls back.]
...Yeah. Sure.
[He lifts his arm obediently, although his gaze stays locked on the floor. He's just... biding his time, until he can go back to his suite and stop thinking about this.]
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no subject
Right. [ When the younger man sits up, Bigby moves his hand against Dodger's back next. ] Is that why you've said two words about yourself since we've met?
[ It doesn't matter, and he doesn't really know why that bothers him as much as it does, but he leaves it at that. Back to focusing on the wounds, he leans a bit closer, head tilting to look over the mark on the other's neck. Bigby should get to dressing it but something else compels first.
His hand slides up to the nape of Dodger's neck, holding it in place as he presses his lips against the gash. While he laps up more blood, the way his tongue moves is noticeably different than before. Gentle. Tender. Like caring for a packmate than tasting a meal. When he pulls back, he carries on, saying nothing. ]
Keep this arm up.
[ The hand at Dodger's neck moves to lift it before he unrolls more gauze, starting at the wound and looping around under said arm a few times until eventually tying it off. ]
no subject
...Yeah. Sure.
[He lifts his arm obediently, although his gaze stays locked on the floor. He's just... biding his time, until he can go back to his suite and stop thinking about this.]