[Unfortunately, Abby is right in his element, more motivated by Jinu's inevitable complaints than the need to shower. But uh, since it was mentioned, maybe it would be a good idea?]
...Need help? [Not that he actually expected Romance needed help figuring out how to bathe, but something in Abby's eyes said that he was very much still in some kind of chokehold. Whether he himself was aware of it was anyone's guess.
Slowly, and very hesitantly, he starts pulling out of the embrace. Sitting up, he can finally see what Romance was complaining about--the bed was ripped to shreds, claw marks scoring the headboard, mirror cracked and fragmented, leaving little shards all over the rug. It certainly looked as if demons had ripped the place apart.
The satisfied smirk plastered on Abby's face was absolutely criminal, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.]
He sighs, dragging his eyes from the headboard back to Abby as he sits up, a brow lifting. There's an expression on his face Romance has seen before, one he's never personally returned - until now. Whatever this is, this undefined thing, seems to have both of them tangled up in something that can only end badly.
Romance is having trouble caring, even with being surrounded by his ruined things.
Well. He might care a little, actually, because that look on Abby's face is earning a mild glare as he reaches over to pluck a feather from Abby's hair. ]
Yes, sir. [He chuckles low, deeply pleased as Romance glares, pulls a feather from his mussed hair, and still invites Abby to shower. It's like he's god's gift to men.
Abby moves to stand, rolling his shoulders, cracking his joints with a pleased grunt. His hair is more of an indigo when he's relaxed this way, talons sharp, fangs slightly more animal. He does a series of stretches, feeling over certain muscle groups, as if checking for progress after a workout--and of course he's smug about that too.
The moment Romance is up, Abby is slinging a possessive arm around his waist, that demonic purring still rumbling in the back of his throat and down through his chest.]
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...Need help? [Not that he actually expected Romance needed help figuring out how to bathe, but something in Abby's eyes said that he was very much still in some kind of chokehold. Whether he himself was aware of it was anyone's guess.
Slowly, and very hesitantly, he starts pulling out of the embrace. Sitting up, he can finally see what Romance was complaining about--the bed was ripped to shreds, claw marks scoring the headboard, mirror cracked and fragmented, leaving little shards all over the rug. It certainly looked as if demons had ripped the place apart.
The satisfied smirk plastered on Abby's face was absolutely criminal, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done.]
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He sighs, dragging his eyes from the headboard back to Abby as he sits up, a brow lifting. There's an expression on his face Romance has seen before, one he's never personally returned - until now. Whatever this is, this undefined thing, seems to have both of them tangled up in something that can only end badly.
Romance is having trouble caring, even with being surrounded by his ruined things.
Well. He might care a little, actually, because that look on Abby's face is earning a mild glare as he reaches over to pluck a feather from Abby's hair. ]
Yes. Come with me.
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Abby moves to stand, rolling his shoulders, cracking his joints with a pleased grunt. His hair is more of an indigo when he's relaxed this way, talons sharp, fangs slightly more animal. He does a series of stretches, feeling over certain muscle groups, as if checking for progress after a workout--and of course he's smug about that too.
The moment Romance is up, Abby is slinging a possessive arm around his waist, that demonic purring still rumbling in the back of his throat and down through his chest.]