Hisoka did not move or respond in the least to all the commotion that went on around him nor did he act when Tsuzuki shook him. Instead, the boy merely continued to listen to the voices as his skin began to stitch itself back together again, allowing himself to be handled like nothing more than a rag doll in effort to continue feigning unconsciousness.

The shinigami quietly thanked the heavens his wounds were no deeper, muscles were such a pain to mend-- they itched like hell too-- and bones were obnoxiously loud when they snapped back into place.

Hisoka quickly abandoned this train of thought as he felt Tsuzuki loosen his grip on him. It was almost time. His wounds were not completely healed, but this was not the time to worry about such things. Now he only had to wait for the perfect moment...