[Byakuran's fingers trace that cut again, leaving the slightest smear of blood on his cheek, and it's with an almost manic sort of adrenaline-fueled amusement that an idea floats into Mukuro's head. Byakuran is pristine, white, untouched by anything around him at all times -- and when Mukuro grabs tightly onto his arm with a gloved hand sticky with his own half-dried blood, it's quite satisfying to know that there will be a dark-red stain on that white canvas, if only for now, and that's one point in his favor.]
no subject
I'm flattered by your confidence in me.