[His hand now floats down to slide around Chilton's throat in a full-palmed grip, not pressing yet in the slightest, except that the tips of his thumb and forefinger push up at the hinge of Chilton's jaw, forcing him to expose his neck more still. His eyes are lidded as he watches his own action, gaze then flicking back up to make eye contact. He comes in close, nearly whispering.]
I'm not here to hurt you. But I will if you don't tell me to stop. It's no skin off my back.
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I'm not here to hurt you. But I will if you don't tell me to stop. It's no skin off my back.