"I never thought I'd see the day when Anthony Rodriguez fell in love with a woman this innocent," Devano said with a slight cough as he kept the pressure on his neck but any wise person could see that the blood gushing out of that wound was already dampening the white shirt. If that wasn't proof enough, you could see how pale he was becoming by the second, how ghostly his skin was turning, how hallow his breathing was changing.
"I never thought I'd see the day also but look where we are," I murmured, walking to his alcohol cabinet and pulling out a bottle of spirit. I poured it into a glass and pushed the bottle to him on the ground. He reached for it, unbottled and baptized the bloodied shirt with it, then pressed it on the wound.
"Motherfucker!" he snapped, slightly hitting his head on the wall, grimacing loudly. "What does it feel like?"
