"I doubt you wish for a wood carving of me," Death commented. "It would anger you to see the face of a man you dislike for vehemently, and then you would hurt your knuckles punching it."

Death's tone was dry and emotionless, but the conversation made him uncomfortable and he was happy to shift it as soon as possible from the subject he despised - himself - to one he was more content with - his lover.

His hand cupped Angelo's jawline, his thumb skirting along the bone, judging the sense of power beneath Angelo's skin.

"And I do not wish to cause you excessive pain."