Djinn listened to Eamon with a small frown on his lips. "That long?" He said with a sigh. His blue eyes fell briefly away from Eamon's umber orbs but returned to the man's handsome face when he felt he was being stared at. It was almost unsettling. Up to this point they had only caught the occasional eye contact. Now he couldn't get the man to look away. Djinn cleared his throat, feeling the beginnings of suspicion taking root. Things happened quickly after that. The chair Djinn had been sitting in was suddenly no longer supporting him and the Fae immediately fell forward to catch his weight on the table. "Fuck!" He snapped when his injured hand caught his weight. But before he could try to move or react Eamon was upon him. The Dr's long fingers curling around his neck with more speed than he thought possible.

He's not human.

Now Djinn reacted. Using his hands he shoved at the table, trying to force it back against the man who was at his throat. Immediately he released it when his hand sent pain signals roaring through his brain again. Djinn stumbled back, managing to get his feet under him he conjured the long black lance that was always his weapon in battle, but it was his hand that he used to hold it that was injured. Realizing it was useless Djinn let the lance dissipate into tiny shiny black flecks that would float away like ash. His good hand searching for anything near him that could be used as a weapon.

Eamon was larger, and he didn't have a messed up hand. Why the hell did he bandage him up if he was just going to attack him? Why was he attacking? A bounty? "Sorry Doc but I'm not into you that way, already paid my bill!" He, at last, snatched his empty glass and attempted to slam it against the side of Eamon's handsome face. It was a shame really, but apparently, he was a psycho.

Like a moth caught in a spider's web, the Fae had little chance of escape. Crippled as he was with his hand unusable he had little chance of fighting off the other man. The blow to the side of Eamon's face had little effect on the man and it was getting ridiculous. Djinn tried to pull his hand away from his throat. Coughing a little from the pain in his throat and how much harder it was to breathe. "What-fuck-WHAT DO YOU WANT!?!" He snarled. His anger finally rising to the surface.

His wrist was taken and twisted, Djinn resisted at first. But when he felt his wrist beginning to give he allowed himself to be forced forward. Not wanting to be stuck with a broken wrist and a messed up hand at the same time. He fell face forward on the table with a pained grunt, his arm twisting awkwardly behind him. The position was an odd one and his wings that were strapped down fluttered feebly against the material that he kept wound around his chest and stomach to keep them in pace. Unfortunately, that desperate movement made the other side attempt to mirror it. The side that had no wings but a bit of shredded tissue left and plenty of scar tissue. He had also taken a knife to that location a couple weeks prior, something that had been anything but pleasant. Djinn arched back in an attempt to stop the pain. Losing his wings had been the most painful thing Djinn had ever gone through. Having that scar tissue annoyed was no small thing.

"What the hell are you?? What do you even want, you lunatic?"

A confused expression crossed the fae's face at Eamon's strange answer. "For what?? Spare parts? I didn't know you were 'that' sort of doctor!" Djinn's lips were pulled tight against his teeth in a grimace of pain, he couldn't help the sarcastic snort that followed Eamon's words. "If you wanted to hold my hand all you had to do was ask!" He replied tersely. But it appeared Eamon was leading him somewhere, albeit in an odd way with his arm still twisted. Djinn sat up from the table as much as he was allowed to do and began to walk. Trying to think of an escape in his head, a way out of this mess.

His brows knitted together when they reached the stairs, finding each step a bit awkwardly with the position he was forced to walk in. He was confused but curious at the same time. Just what did this man have in store for her? What could be running around in that brain of his? Nothing good apparently, but from a man who regularly tortured those he felt deserved it he would have been lying if he said he wasn't intrigued by the doctors twisted actions.

((mine was/is too lol, no worries!))

He was ushered along in silence, no idea just where he might be headed. But then suddenly his arm was jerked and his balance lost, the hand holding him springing free. "Fuck!" He snapped, hands flying out to try to catch himself, his two remaining wings doing the same as they jerked free of the bindings and fluttered uselessly against his coat. The hand that caught something was, of course, the injured one and it was hardly strong enough to catch his weight. He half spun. Blue eyes latching onto the image of the one who had shoved him as he fell.

Sonofa- He landed awkwardly, catching his shoulder and his neck as he bounced/fell down the stairs. Ending in a crumpled heap at the bottom with his coat nearly ripped from his body. His remaining wings fluttering weakly in a movement almost like a tremble. He blinked against the fog that filled his head and tried to push himself upward but it was no use. His body wasn't cooperating. He could taste blood, having bitten his lip on the way down. His body was just a throbbing font of pain. The last image that flashed through his mind was one of Killian. It was strange, ironic. But he could only assume this was his death. The darkness sucked him in then, the blow to his skull rendering him unconscious and at last his wings would still to settle limply against his back.

(if Eamon needs to move him or anything feel free to shuffle him wherever/do whatever lol)

Djinn’s dreams were ones of darkness and despair. The blood from his own lips tainted his tongue and made the fae recall other times when the coppery taste had filled his mouth. Just how Djinn lost his wings was something he never spoke of. When someone did find out about his disfigurement he always brushed off their questions with a mixture of charm and sarcasm.

The truth was much less palatable.

The feel of hands working at the hard muscles of his back that remained twisted and tense elicited a pleased groan from the fae’s lips. His head rolling back with a sigh as he swam closer and closer to consciousness. Before his eyes would lazily open he was already aware that he was nearly naked. That he was restrained. But most importantly of all-someone was touching his back. The realization hit the male like lightening and immediately his back arched away from the contact, blue eyes opening with a flash of anger. He was lean but wirely muscled and strained against the metal restraints in vain. Twisting his head until he could just barely see Eamon behind him.

It took Djinn a moment to put the pieces together, the fall having shaken his thoughts to the effect of scrambled eggs. ”Eamon?” His deep voice rumbled, a mixture of surprise and accusation. That was right…he had been pushed down the stairs…attacked. Now he awoke to this? Djinn’s remaining wings that resembled those of a dragon fly fluttered uselessly against his back. All manner of joking fell away now. Djinn’s face was tense and his pride was burning.

Only a fae could understand his shame and no fae would put another in a position like this. The injured side twitched uselessly and caused Djinn to tense, his jaw twitching from how tightly his teeth were clenched. ”What now?” While before his words would have likely been light and jesting they were now dark and cold. With the candles lit he was able to look around a bit, seeing all manner of tools that weren’t meant for normal medicine. No…this looked more like a torture chamber than anything.

Fuck.

”You are going to torture me to death then, aye?” His lips twisted into a humorless smile, blue eyes roaming back to find what he could see of Eamon. Djinn enjoyed some less than acceptable methods himself, however he didn’t have a whole chamber set up for it. ”This because of your brother?” The words were low but surprisingly lacking sarcasm. ”….how long did it take you to figure out I was a fae?”

"I lied." Djinn couldn't help but laugh, it faded away with a knowing sigh. "Of course you did." He said with a smirk, it was a common ploy that many would utilize to draw pity or seem harmless. Hell, Djinn had assumed the dr to be so. He had felt...something, but it hadn't been clear enough to make him leave. Apparently, he should have trusted his gut. "I suppose it doesn't. Dead is dead." His gaze followed his attractive torturer as he headed over to grab some apparent tools. Rolling the satchel out until Djinn could see the light glinting from several shiny surfaces.

"Good to know." He quipped about the cleanliness of the tools. Eamon took something from it and moved back to him. Crouching down in front of his knees. Djinn coked a brow at him. "I assume you Eamon if you just wanted me to bed you there are much easier ways to go about it." His hips rocked forth as much as the seat would allow as if to accentuate his words. Djinn didn't want to die here, but fuck...if Eamon wasn't going to let him out of this chair he had little chance of escape. He might as well go out with his head held high and the sweet taste of sarcasm on his tongue.

Eamon's long fingers slipped down his leg and Djinn leaned forward to try to see what he was doing. There was a sudden pain in the top of his foot as something was forced through his flesh. He immediately tried to kick away but with the restraints, it was hardly more than a helpless wiggle. He hissed leaned his head back until he was staring at the ceiling a pained wry smile on his face that bristled with stubble. "If I am going to die here then you should do the honor of sating my curiosity. You aren't human.... just what are you? Other than a man after my own heart?" His foot was throbbing. He was by no means not feeling pain. But he was also determined to not show it. The drink upstairs helped a tad also.

Eamon was speaking in riddles that made Djinn sigh with annoyance. But within those words were also hints at the man's true race. Immortal or a dragon then, maybe. If he was truly so incredibly old as he acted. He walked away to rummage through a bin and Djinn tried to angle hit foot in a way that made the hood not as uncomfortable. Before long Eamon returned and spouted more words. A collar in his hands. A strange device with spikes thrusting in instead of out. Shit.

The goddess gave them a gift to walk among the others? Djinn wasn't exactly very clear on the lore of all the races but that sounded worryingly like a dragon. Hah....of course. A dragon. Didn't that just figure. He tensed when the collar was brought to his neck. The first time the pressure of the spikes didn't relent. The second, after loosening it, it wasn't as bad. It was pretty creative really to not try to muffle speech but make it a source of pain all its own. He had to give Eamon props for it.

He swallowed to test the tightness, feeling the metal spikes poke at his flesh from the expansion of his throat. Just fantastic. Eamon moved in front of him then, one hand settling beneath his chin. His thumb rolled over Djinn's cheek and the fae just had to smirk. "Can't handle a little sarcasm, dragon?"

But Eamon was turning away then, the hook on his foot suddenly twisted and jerked free of Djinn's flesh. He growled behind clenched teeth, hissing and glaring at the dragon who moved away and back to the table. What came after was pain, lots of pain. Hook after hook forced into his flesh as he grunted and groaned. His slender body tensing each and every time. When it was finally over he took several deep breaths. Sweat had risen in tiny salty droplets on his forehead and his chest. Blue eyes glared at Eamon as he fought against the urge to curse at him. One small softly spoken statement did escape though, and it was worth the pain around his throat. "Yousonofabitch..." It came out in one breathless gasp.

His wing? Djinn tensed at the mere mention of his missing appendage. His lips pulling back against his teeth in an almost animalistic baring of his teeth. "You'll never know, lizard." The words hurt, but again it was worth it. Eamon was fiddling with some herbs and eventually doused a rag with some strange smelling liquid before moving to his backside. Djinn tried to twist to see him, to stop him. But the restraints didn't let him get far. "Stop!" He barked, feeling the scarred tissue of his back that always seemed to ache steadily growing numb. "What the hell are you doing?! I said stop!" The last statement which was yelled out forced his tender throat against the waiting spikes. Tiny little pinpricks could be seen in his skin. Just the hint of blood peeking from beneath.

He was afraid, actually afraid that something was going to be done to his back. To his remaining wings. He knew all too well how badly it would hurt to have the tissue annoyed.