[vile blood. that causes him a feeling of some kind, for sure, and fitz does a poor job of masking it, an exhausted brand of resignation that of course, of course his blood would still be 'vile' even here. his eyes follow viktor tiredly as he steps away to fetch something, only sharpening when he returns with a needle--and then relaxing again once it becomes clear that he isn't about to be stuck with it.]
I've had worse flesh wounds. [a joke! it's a joke. he turns up his palm and applies the sharp point of the needle to the tip of his little finger, and does not even flinch at the bite of the point into the skin. immediately the foul-coloured green blood wells up into a single drop on his fingertip, and the floral aroma is so incongruous with the weather outside that fitz feels dizzy, just for a moment.]
Is it really so vile? [he's mostly speaking to himself as he says this, though he does glance viktor's way a moment later to ascertain how his new acquaintance feels about the sight of his green blood.]
cw: pricking his finger with a needle! and a bit of blood.
I've had worse flesh wounds. [a joke! it's a joke. he turns up his palm and applies the sharp point of the needle to the tip of his little finger, and does not even flinch at the bite of the point into the skin. immediately the foul-coloured green blood wells up into a single drop on his fingertip, and the floral aroma is so incongruous with the weather outside that fitz feels dizzy, just for a moment.]
Is it really so vile? [he's mostly speaking to himself as he says this, though he does glance viktor's way a moment later to ascertain how his new acquaintance feels about the sight of his green blood.]