[the wounded mouse squirms again, playfully; francel rolls and reveals more of his face, showing, at last, a dreamy, blissful expression. his eyes are clouded with a haziness that seems dangerously close to love. with one ear seized he cannot move his head much, but he bares his delicate neck, as if to make himself more vulnerable, more open to touch.]
no subject
N-No...
[he turns halfway onto his side.]
But I... I like... having my ears touched...