Snippet #1699535

Zenith looked at the man, who tossed Layla the keys to the room they would apparently share, as if he had grown an extra two heads and was eating a baby for the hell of it. He was putting them together? The two of them? In a room? Together? "I thought the fucking geezer was supposed to help me..." He muttered under his breath.

As he entered the room, he had to admit that he was pretty impressed. Simple yet elegant seemed to be the motto. As he set his bags on the bed, he waved away the issue of the beds. "I don't mind," he stated plainly, simply trying to not think about anything. Dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies, dead puppies... He couldn't help but to eye her as she walked past him into the bathroom. Deadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppiesdeadpuppies... She then walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a bikini. Deadpup--HOT DAMN. His mind made an instant switch, his eyes devouring her, his hands once again fidgety. She invited him to come with her to the beach, to which he gave a friendly smile. "Why, certainly. I would love to join you." He dug in his bag for a moment, grabbing his bathing suit and towel, then went into the bathroom to change. He had changed quickly, ready to go until he caught a view of himself in the mirror. He looked at the scars littering his body, all caused by himself. Many were just random slit marks in the hopes of escape. However, the most noticeable was perhaps the most in meaning. Over where his heart lay was a heart-shape carved into his flesh, and X through the shape. Underneath, a series of tallymarks could be seen...and a lot of them. It was the count of every time he was broken; everytime he had succumbed to his desires. He gave a sigh before exiting the bathroom.

"Ready when you are," he told her, attempting to casually hide the largest scar by slinging the towel over his shoulder, the white fabric covering that area, though it was plain to see the other scars he had bestowed upon himself.