[ There is blood on the paper. He's only just noticed it, too distracted by his work to see it. Or maybe it wasn't there before, and it's just now appeared, little droplets of it.
It's only a few moments later, when he puts his hand on another book and leaves a great red handprint, that he turns his hand over and looks at the marks there. Four of them. Four deep, angry puncture wounds. And it's both surprising and not, because he knew that this was a side effect, but he's missed the way Alucard digs his claws into his own hands until now.
If they fuck this up, they both die. And they'll deserve it.
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It's only a few moments later, when he puts his hand on another book and leaves a great red handprint, that he turns his hand over and looks at the marks there. Four of them. Four deep, angry puncture wounds. And it's both surprising and not, because he knew that this was a side effect, but he's missed the way Alucard digs his claws into his own hands until now.
If they fuck this up, they both die. And they'll deserve it.
He's trusting a monster with his life. ]