"Heh. There's an idea." What would he do with a chained up Mezzetino? The imagination runs wild. "Stash you under my desk and use you to warm my cock?" Scar runs hot, his mouth probably feels amazing, and it's not like the underside of Wriothesley's desk is short on space. "Maybe let you come if you do a good job."

He rests next to him, occasionally idly scratching the base of one of Scar's horns. "Work my frustrations out on you after meetings with idiots, too. You do take a beating very prettily. I wish you'd keep those bruises."