[The touch is worse. It reminds him of something bad but he's not sure what. Just - he hates it, his eyes narrow, he considers just biting him to get him away because he's spent too much time around Lila.]
[He's not going to bite anybody's bare thumb, though.]
[But then he's slapped (his face stings, he snarls) and thrown (the edge of the chest digs between two ribs, going to leave a bruise, he can tell). He grabs onto the edge, wincing, poking at his lip with his tongue.]
Cover your hands if you're going to touch my face.
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[He's not going to bite anybody's bare thumb, though.]
[But then he's slapped (his face stings, he snarls) and thrown (the edge of the chest digs between two ribs, going to leave a bruise, he can tell). He grabs onto the edge, wincing, poking at his lip with his tongue.]
Cover your hands if you're going to touch my face.