Soon his long hands are on her back, soothing up her muscles with gold flecks of light that seep into her veins.
“Precious my flypaper, we should get further down the hallway soon,” she whispers, feeling a cold tingling arise beneath the knitting bone.
She reaches up to pull his fingers away and adjust his nose, her fingers glowing.
Their eyes meet over the flow of blood from his bruised septum.
“Excellent riposte. But what now, Candy Love?” he asks, nodding his blondish head down the way, toward an open door, slightly swaying from recent motion. “I, personally, feel I was denied the right to counsel. In any case, huh? What are you…”
Flamina sticks her tongue out in a mess of ruffled white hair and flushed face and vibrant olive eyes, then applies her hand to the Master’s chest and pushes.