Bramblepoint We’re going to your place

He winced as he sits before her, attempting to keep his eye open is a great feat and everything in him screams to close it. His lip curls and wrinkles from the pain and his brow furrows. When Santi sees her own eyes widen at the sight of his ruined eye he knows it’s bad, even though he obviously knew that before. So he listens to her offer some type of treatment, a plant he assumes, but continues with a however — which is never good. 

It seems those words hold true in this instance as well. She says it should be removed and his scowl becomes even deeper. A low growl emits from his throat. Not necessarily meant for her but just the situation in general. 

“Mm.” He grunts in acknowledgment. “And how the fuck do you plan on doing that, chica?” He asks sarcastically. Though he really does wonder how she would go about it because Santi knows that would hurt worse than hells fire.