[The room is baking inside and some of the wallpaper drips off in ribbons at the corners. Not enough to worry about, but enough to make a statement. Either he doesn't notice or he's too busy concerning himself with what stands before him; a shadowy mass, twisting and turning through stark-white bone. What used to be Stocke is nothing more than a shell and had he not known the other before, it would have been a bit difficult to make out.]
[The air thins with the release of smog and the tip of Greed's tail scurries away from the door handle. The metal piece is a bit misshapen in the aftermath, the smooth surface concave in some places.] It's a bit inconvenient - [The Sin starts in and when his tongue touches his teeth, it's like a crack of a molten-hot whip. The forked piece glows in hell-fire, snapping off then rolling back into his mouth. A few sizzles graze inside his cheek, illuminating his bones in an ashen shade of black.] - though I guess it's to be expected. Things being as they are, well -
[He's interrupted by a belching squeal and one of the doors further down the hallway flies open. Greed instantly perks at the sound, his jaws setting into an uncanny frown. The large, curved-teeth on either side of his mouth slice, then open. Releasing a breath of ash that plumes out and dissipates.] Tsk. Our friends aren't exactly very giving, are they.
[Thankfully, he knows what to expect. At least, he has an inclination. Once the fog dissipates, the more monstrous transformations should subside. Though it's speculation at best and the Sin's eyes narrow behind his sunglasses when he rights them again. The blare of red behind them burns and fades, lingering back in bright, scurrying streaks.] Ha - ! I guess you could say that, but I've already told you: I don't let anyone take what's mine, Stocke. Fog god, or not.
[Greed tosses his hand into the air, the jagged markings of inky-black skin heating again with the movement. On fire; from deep, deep down he can feel it. A burning sensation that has nothing to do with the physical manifest. A need and oh, is he parched.] No, it shouldn't be. [He extends his hand, gently prying open his claws to further inspect the other. Trails of black shift through his fingers, twisting through the gaps like stray smoke. Again, his expression falls and the former homunculus takes one step forward, then another.]
Haven't run into any other trouble, have you? [He starts in again, but not without a distance in is voice. His head is pulsing, his core racing. The heavy drum beat thudding his temples, screaming out for one thing only:]
["More."] Either way, it looks like we'll have a long night ahead of us - [One eye rolls around in his socket, turning back to Stocke.] - think you can handle it?
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[The air thins with the release of smog and the tip of Greed's tail scurries away from the door handle. The metal piece is a bit misshapen in the aftermath, the smooth surface concave in some places.] It's a bit inconvenient - [The Sin starts in and when his tongue touches his teeth, it's like a crack of a molten-hot whip. The forked piece glows in hell-fire, snapping off then rolling back into his mouth. A few sizzles graze inside his cheek, illuminating his bones in an ashen shade of black.] - though I guess it's to be expected. Things being as they are, well -
[He's interrupted by a belching squeal and one of the doors further down the hallway flies open. Greed instantly perks at the sound, his jaws setting into an uncanny frown. The large, curved-teeth on either side of his mouth slice, then open. Releasing a breath of ash that plumes out and dissipates.] Tsk. Our friends aren't exactly very giving, are they.
[Thankfully, he knows what to expect. At least, he has an inclination. Once the fog dissipates, the more monstrous transformations should subside. Though it's speculation at best and the Sin's eyes narrow behind his sunglasses when he rights them again. The blare of red behind them burns and fades, lingering back in bright, scurrying streaks.] Ha - ! I guess you could say that, but I've already told you: I don't let anyone take what's mine, Stocke. Fog god, or not.
[Greed tosses his hand into the air, the jagged markings of inky-black skin heating again with the movement. On fire; from deep, deep down he can feel it. A burning sensation that has nothing to do with the physical manifest. A need and oh, is he parched.] No, it shouldn't be. [He extends his hand, gently prying open his claws to further inspect the other. Trails of black shift through his fingers, twisting through the gaps like stray smoke. Again, his expression falls and the former homunculus takes one step forward, then another.]
Haven't run into any other trouble, have you? [He starts in again, but not without a distance in is voice. His head is pulsing, his core racing. The heavy drum beat thudding his temples, screaming out for one thing only:]
["More."] Either way, it looks like we'll have a long night ahead of us - [One eye rolls around in his socket, turning back to Stocke.] - think you can handle it?