[clary]

Vyra issues another whine at the bit yanked from his mouth. The metallic tang of blood coats his palate, slowly dripping down the front of his shirt in messy splotches. He tenses at the touch, lip curled in distaste at the comment. “Oh... no, no—“ That irritated tone from earlier makes its way back into his voice. “No, I am not... allowing you to do this.” Vyra tips his head back slightly and thick white curls bounce gently over his eyes. “Use someone else, someone in your group here.” His words hold a sense of finality to them. “There is no logic behind using me.”