[There are things he'll be sore about (beyond the physical) but they're all tied up in other kinds of lost chances. Not getting rejected as an ingenue by someone with no idea what kind of trenches he was marching into.

Approaching a boy he'd never said one word to with all kinds of reassurances that his desires were good, and reasonable, and allowed, here - he'd been the white queen holding out a jewelled box of turkish delight and asking Prior to come closer. Is it any wonder he expected the next step to be dipping his fingers in for a piece. To Prior then, having the thing snapped on his fingers hurt and confused, but to Prior now?

It's the best laugh he's had in a while.]

Sore? [He bites his lip only to stop the laughing, which only resettles it in his body, shaking his shoulders instead.] I got free shoes. I might even take them back for some I'll actually wear.

[He won't. These will be on display in his room for a while, somewhere easily visible from the door.]

Honestly Richie, if I'd known you were such an easy hustle I'd have offered you a piece before.

[Come on, get that sheepish look off your face, it doesn't suit. Prior will take scandalised any day over that.]