When Dulce went to squish the ball, he realized it was stuck to his hands. He had lost his coats sometime while he drunk, leaving him in just his dress shirt. Trying to be thoughtful, he kicked off his shoes and placed a socked foot on the stretchy shadow rope, attempting to pull it off his hands.
All that accomplished was the shadow rope rebounding when he stretched it too far, the rope taking his sock with it. The rebound made it wrap around his forearms, sending his sock flying over the sofa.
Two Demons quietly watched him tie himself deeper and deeper into a bind. The elasticity of the shadow rope was endless, and its stickiness made it impossible to unravel.
Asael had to drop his jar of wine so that he didn't lose his grip on it, desire spilling over his gray eyes like ink, staining them black. He might have had a hand in the stickiness, but his intentions hadn't been to constrict the Vampire.
