Through it all, like his face was carved permanently in a grin, Alastor's smile never dropped. He would never allow it. Or perhaps, he couldn't stop it. Who could say?

After a few moments of silence, Alastor's haggard breathing slowly smoothed out, growing steady. There was still pain, but it was hardly of note - he'd been singing and dancing with far, far worse just moments ago, after all. This really was nothing.

"Showoff," Alastor repeated once he got his wind back, once his tongue had wit again. The demon pulled his claws free from the chair's upholstery, shaking off the stuffing before patting around for the scissors to start snipping at the rest of the stitching. "You aren't still hurting?"