Izaya snapped his head back to get away from the overly saline-like taste and breath some relatively fresher air. His jaw was tired, his tongue was shot, and he surprised even himself how long he was able to endure that torture. On the other hand, Psyche certainly showed no signs of letting up, if the pained groans slipping past the informant's chapped lips were any indication of it.

"I'll... end you before you get that chance, Delic." With his knife on the floor with his jacket, though, that seemed unlikely. His speech was still a choppy mess thanks to Psyche's shoving him right back into Delic's hips, and the blond's erection rubbing against all parts of his face. Still, he manages a word or two in edgewise against his doppelganger.

"And you, Psyche... you're done for when we get back home."