Rude doesn't feel any amount of guilt for the sound of the impact. When Tseng kicked him in the chin he'd both caused him to bite his tongue (which was still bleeding), and the force impacted his teeth enough to make his gums bleed with it. It's a wonder he hadn't lost any in the scrapping.

Now his suit was a mess, and the only thing he could think about was getting it to the cleaners before they closed--broken ribs be damned. They'd heal eventually, but blood stains were time sensitive. Rude his ready to shove Tseng off when he gets taunted. "Why? Haven't had enough?"

Rude feels a warm tongue drag over the stubble of his chin following the path of blood, and right away he knows he's going to have to call this suit a lost cause. "Tseng," he says his name firmly, maybe a warning. This isn't what he had in mind when he thought he could tire him out. Rude tilts his head back, staring up at the ceiling in defeat as he winces at the hips pressing against his. Fuck it. He won fair and square, it wouldn't be right to deny Tseng his spoils of war.