Birkin screamed loudly as Stein cut him. He was never a big fan of pain, honestly, and his back down-right stung. The shirt (really just glorified sleeves at this point) fell onto the floor. "I liked that shirt," he said, turning around to glare harshly. There was a good chance he would have tried running if the other man wasn't blocking the only exit out of the room.

"Shame you decided to sully me so quickly, in that case." He should have listened to his instincts and never started drinking. "This is what I get for trusting you, I suppose." In his head, he was already mapping out an escape plan; all he needed was to get close enough to the door to get a decent head-start.