“Come here. Let me see ‘em,” Dr. D says while he searches through the bag that Party Poison and Fun Ghoul had dropped off earlier in the day.
Show Pony skates over to Dr.D and presents his wrists. The skin is tender to the touch and redder than a chemical burn. “Maybe we won’t be playing with Drac handcuffs next time?” he asks.
“Yeah, leave it to BL/ind to finally create something that's kinda non-pervertible. Or, at least, not really fun. Aha!” Dr. D holds a jar with some green goo in one hand. He flips the visor in Show Pony’s helmet up with the other. “Hop in,” he says, patting his upper thigh.
Show Pony sits down, curling himself around Dr. D. “What is that thing?” he asks, scrunching up his nose. The goo smells like something that a motorbaby would have thrown up after a successful raid in one of the worst zones.
“According to Party Poison, Jet Star cooked this after the last time they went against Korse,” Dr. D answers before rubbing the slime on the skin. “How’s that?” he asks, wiping his hands on a rag.
“Better,” Show Pony purrs, enjoying the hot and cool sensations. He leans his head against Dr. D’s and sighs contentedly.