Eridan stared for a long moment, the corner of his mouth twisting slowly. His teeth clicked into place.
The next few minutes would likely be a blur to them both, if not just Eridan; he would later remember dropping the transfusion set at some point, vaguely. His foot on the bottom of the chair's seat, giving it as hard a shove as he could towards the wall, a few hard steps forward - stomping on one of the wooden legs twice, snapping it off, and then dragging Eddie's chair upright and against the wall, a white-knuckled grip an inch from his mentor's face.
The earlier beating had been brief, and for Eridan Ampora, relatively light. Fun. This next one wasn't.
Dimly, arduously, he came back to himself some time later - pulled out of it by the splinter digging into his palm, of all things, and the stark contrast of blood slicked across his knuckles. In some distant regard for Eddie's well-being, he'd used his fists most of the time; the chair leg had only come into play when Eridan set at Eddie's knees. Now, breathing hard, he tossed it somewhere off into the mess of tarp.
"You," he huffed, pointing at Eddie, "need to stop doin' that. Next time it happens I'm liable to snap your fuckin' jaw off and beat you to death with it, and piecin' your corpse up in my bathtub ain't how I want to spend the night."
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away traces of foam, leaving a raw streak of red across his face.
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The next few minutes would likely be a blur to them both, if not just Eridan; he would later remember dropping the transfusion set at some point, vaguely. His foot on the bottom of the chair's seat, giving it as hard a shove as he could towards the wall, a few hard steps forward - stomping on one of the wooden legs twice, snapping it off, and then dragging Eddie's chair upright and against the wall, a white-knuckled grip an inch from his mentor's face.
The earlier beating had been brief, and for Eridan Ampora, relatively light. Fun. This next one wasn't.
Dimly, arduously, he came back to himself some time later - pulled out of it by the splinter digging into his palm, of all things, and the stark contrast of blood slicked across his knuckles. In some distant regard for Eddie's well-being, he'd used his fists most of the time; the chair leg had only come into play when Eridan set at Eddie's knees. Now, breathing hard, he tossed it somewhere off into the mess of tarp.
"You," he huffed, pointing at Eddie, "need to stop doin' that. Next time it happens I'm liable to snap your fuckin' jaw off and beat you to death with it, and piecin' your corpse up in my bathtub ain't how I want to spend the night."
He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away traces of foam, leaving a raw streak of red across his face.
"Fuck."