West was proud that he didn't flinch at the cracking or the itching or the sparky-gross feeling he felt for a moment. Very proud. He smirked as he glanced down at his palm before bringing it up closer to his face. Barth's mark was satisfyingly ominous, especially since it was glowing so delightfully. West's fingers closed around it, keeping it out of sight as he had been instructed, and he reached out to grab at the other demon's hand, leaning forward and tugging at it so he could see his mark for the first, and what would probably be the last, time.
It was a simple thing, which was really quite appropriate, but West was too enamored of it to come to the conclusion that he should be offended. Instead of possessing a glow, it was a dark red to begin with, and the only indication that it was fresh was the scorched look it had around its edges. His smile grew wider as he rudely prodded at Barth's palm, tracing his finger over the mark's angry lines.
All at once, he realized that he was making a bit of an a** of himself and let go, sitting back in his seat slightly.
"Uh... here," he said quickly, raising his own hand and opening it so his palm was visible.
"Thanks," he muttered, picking up his drumsticks again as he felt the mark on his skin begin to fade.
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