They take me here. [He pointedly stares at Midnight, something of a sly smile swiftly crossing his face.] Where else?
[He gives a light nod in acknowledgment before the man walks away to retrieve that corkscrew. His eyes have nowhere else to go, so they flash wide open when they take note of what's happening back there, trailing every inch of those intricate patterns as far as they can go; the swoops, the swirls, everything. Midnight makes his return, depriving him of the view, and Scaramouche has to say:]
I like the ink, baby. [And in a lower voice,] A closer look couldn't hurt.
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[He gives a light nod in acknowledgment before the man walks away to retrieve that corkscrew. His eyes have nowhere else to go, so they flash wide open when they take note of what's happening back there, trailing every inch of those intricate patterns as far as they can go; the swoops, the swirls, everything. Midnight makes his return, depriving him of the view, and Scaramouche has to say:]
I like the ink, baby. [And in a lower voice,] A closer look couldn't hurt.