Eyes fluttering shut, he enjoys the feel of Mukuro’s lips over the sensation of nothing at all. The only thing that changes that is when the knife is pulled out, the movement disturbing his hand’s placement against the armrest. It’s a good thing Mukuro lifts him up when he does; Chikusa had been pondering if he could just ignore the weakness of flesh and bone to walk by himself. A startled exhale of flesh, and he curls his noninjured hand into the front of Mukuro’s

A doctor… Wariness snakes through him. It might be a little apparent with how his body curls up just slightly more in Mukuro’s arms. “Who, Maestro?”