"Yeah, you've got hands to spare, just so it stops making a mess everywhere until it regenerates. Fucker got mad I was grabbing his chest wound to piss him off," Vox griped, rolling up his bloodied sleeve. It was mostly punctured and torn, but at least the bone wasn't completely broken. Hurt like an absolute motherfucker, though.

"Wanted Alastor to remember and realize that I could have killed him," Vox growled - and only didn't because he needed to look out for Valentino. Priorities.