[He does look, like he has some morbid curiosity as to what it's like to be eaten rather than fucking impaled. He wonders which hurt worse, in the end. Idly, he reaches for the buttons of his own shirt, starts undoing them from the midway up all the way down, hauling the ends out of his jeans. ] He tell you how I went out?
[They're still a little purple, some others faded white. The further he spreads his shirt though, the clearer the damage: one just below his sternum, the others peppered across his hips and waist, clean through to the back. ] Tentacles. I got kebab'd.
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[He does look, like he has some morbid curiosity as to what it's like to be eaten rather than fucking impaled. He wonders which hurt worse, in the end. Idly, he reaches for the buttons of his own shirt, starts undoing them from the midway up all the way down, hauling the ends out of his jeans. ] He tell you how I went out?
[They're still a little purple, some others faded white. The further he spreads his shirt though, the clearer the damage: one just below his sternum, the others peppered across his hips and waist, clean through to the back. ] Tentacles. I got kebab'd.