Marik handed Bakura a long, black strip of silk. "Here."
Bakura looked down at the shimmering material with a confused look on his face. "Uh . . . it's very pretty, Marik. What am I suppose to do with this, exactly?"
Marik rolled his eyes. "It's a blindfold."
"Oh. Then shouldn't you have tied it around my eyes?"
Marik inhale and then exhaled, nervousness and exhilaration dueling in his mind. "It's not for you."
Bakura looked up. "Marik?"
Marik shrugged for lack of a better gesture to use. "I want you to use it on me."
"But you hate anything that keeps you from seeing."
"Normally, but I think if it's with you I'll be okay."
Bakura stepped closer, brushing hair away from Marik's eyes. "You know . . ." he began, hesitating and then deciding to say what he was thinking. "You don't have to prove anything."
"I know," Marik whispered, staring at the carpet for a moment. He lifted his face back up towards Bakura. "It's not that . . . it's that I feel like I'm missing out on something if I don't do it."
Bakura gave Marik a wicked smile. "All right, then. I wouldn't want you to miss out. Let's go to the bedroom."
"Now? Bakura, it's noon."
"No time like the present, Ishtar. Let's go."