Oh no, Slaine did not like getting his finger bitten, and it shows in the way he lets out an exasperated puff of breath from his lips, a displeased frown briefly forming on his face.

"Really Sheryl, you ought to be careful," he scolds gently, taking a moment to break character as well to cast an idle glance at his finger. It's swollen at the tip, reddish bite marks forming around the part where it got bit. He shakes his head and continues, "Well, I'm grateful that there was no bleeding or tears in any case. That would be problematic."

He's quick to smooth out the grimace from his face in favor of watching Sheryl, the idea from a few seconds earlier still lingering in his head. She wasn't the only one far too immersed into her own role; he'd be lying if he said he didn't get caught up in himself. Flushed cheeks, the obvious signs of arousal mixed with genuine concern for his well-being... it's an appealing sight, he must admit.

"But rest easy, I forgive you," Slaine says, the corners of his lips tugging into what appears to be a cordial smile. Perhaps a little too innocent. Before he can stop himself, he hovers the cup above his girlfriend's face, tipping it down so the cold water flows into her skin, cascading down her chest. "This should cool you down."