[He doesn't lash out. He doesn't growl. He barely even moves. Silco digs in, and the man doesn't even wince. As if he expects it. Wants it perhaps. He has never told Silco about it, but his propensity for self-punishment was something to behold.]

[No, only his eyes change. More vivid than ever, as if they are the only things in this world that could exist. They burn in his worn face. The Red Gaze was not just titled that on a whim.]

[Slowly, his hand moves. Finger by finger, trailing down his neck over to the bite from before. He carresses around it with a curl of his thumb.]

We are all hypocrites.

[The nature of humanity. A man can raise children in a horrible City and murder hundreds in a day to day job. Someone like him shouldn't exist, logically. Vergilius bares his fangs, a toothy smile that's barely that.]

...I'm sure you don't want to die here.

[A light statement. But then its punctuated by a sharp press of his thumb into the sore flesh. His nose flares from the smell.]

Unless you get off on the thought of me popping your skull like an egg?