"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Don't cast aspersions on my asparagus.
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Bradley kept his left hand pressed against Aiden's face, but his right hand broke away, knowing that he had to actually protect himself. Teach the touchy asshole a lesson, throw some punches, at centre mass, deflect the few blows he saw coming. Aiden had some sharp claws. Bradley woulda made a quip - on the theme of beaks or girliness or something - but shit. He was tossing his head from side to side, not letting Aiden get a good hit in.

But most of his force was channelled into his left hand. His palm pushed against Aiden's nose, hoping that would maximise the disruption to the senses, throw the feisty and petulant shithead off. Had to cover his eyes a little bit. Push back his face at the same time. Inflict some pain, but not too much. Didn't want to be mistaken for the aggressor here. He wasn't. Ah fuck, maybe he had gone too far this time.

And that thought only happened to coincidentally coincide with the sharp pain as Aiden tugged at his hair. Ah, fuck, that hurt. He grimaced, closing his eyes. Couldn't show weakness. Not now, not never. He wasn't thinking straight. Just thrashing about. Trying to dislodge this obnoxious little shit off him. All he knew was that he had maybe gone too far, but couldn't back down now. Shit.

He felt Aiden's anguished words against his hand. Felt them more than heard them. Accompanied by the spray of spit. Urgh. Immediately distracted again by another tug. Another rush of pain. Moving with his hair folicles. Aiden was really trying to tear them out. Fuck. This couldn't go on. He closed his eyes again, blinking back the few drops of tears that threatened to be prompted out. Wouldn't give in so easily.

Moved his hand, to the side of Aiden's head. Half to escape the barrage of spit, half to mimic his actions. The strategy might be more effective here. Had space to pull Aiden's head back. Lift him up a bit. Take back control.

His other hand, shit, Bradley didn't even know. Maybe it was just flailing about, limply and ineffectively. Or maybe it was doing damage. It was clenched, making contact with skin every now and then. He didn't know.

His left hand finally grabbed onto Aiden's hair, a bit of his earlobe too. His arm stretched back, hoping to yank Aiden off.
V6 peeps:
Kiziah Saraki
Bradley Floyd
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Sing A Song Of Sixpence · Memories from the Past