[Uuuuugh, there it is, that putrid, bitter stench rising up to overpower even the alarming smell of blood. Mal wrinkles his nose and loosens his grip on Ethan's wrists, sitting up, but still straddling his hips and still no homo. For a drunk, his reflexes are pretty impressive to have taken Mal by surprise like that (at least that's how Mal sees it). He makes a note to be more careful in the future, lest he end up being the one pinned.
His lip curls as he rubs the side of his neck, prodding at the tender flesh with his fingertips. He can already tell that's probably going to leave at least a light hickie bruise. This may be his fault, but he's going to hold it against Ethan for quite some time.]
You want to tell me what happened to your shirt?
[In case he's forgotten, let Mal be a pal and help him out. He grabs a fistful of the front of the shirt and tugs the crusty fabric up to Ethan's nose, all but smothering him with it.]
no subject
His lip curls as he rubs the side of his neck, prodding at the tender flesh with his fingertips. He can already tell that's probably going to leave at least a light
hickiebruise. This may be his fault, but he's going to hold it against Ethan for quite some time.]You want to tell me what happened to your shirt?
[In case he's forgotten, let Mal be a pal and help him out. He grabs a fistful of the front of the shirt and tugs the crusty fabric up to Ethan's nose, all but smothering him with it.]