[Perhaps it was because the priest had been unflaggingly honest about what had to be a terrible thing to admit to a demon who exploited any vulnerability or because Mukuro wasn't warm enough to be comfortable in his vessel, but he inched closer, tangling their feet together. Of course he had known just how far in the priest was letting him in, not just when it came to his body, but his home and his emotions. Instead of the usual victorious feeling that would wash over him at this realization, there was a sharp pang of anger. Anger that despite what a good and selfless man Chikusa Kakimoto was, he had been shunned and left alone by the humans he lived to serve. Detestable, every last one.
If the priest wasn't ripping out of his skin at the closeness, Mukuro reached forward to entwine their fingers next.]
I know.
[For once, it wasn't smug. He almost sounded tired, if anything. He let out a small yawn afterwards, curling up as close as he dared, eyes already sliding shut.]
You'll have to tell me what you think about it when you wake up.
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If the priest wasn't ripping out of his skin at the closeness, Mukuro reached forward to entwine their fingers next.]
I know.
[For once, it wasn't smug. He almost sounded tired, if anything. He let out a small yawn afterwards, curling up as close as he dared, eyes already sliding shut.]
You'll have to tell me what you think about it when you wake up.