Pheres is sitting up, and then the next thing you know, there's an oomph - and a black-gloved hand hauling him up by a horn.

You don't need to see the yellow trim to know who it is: you'd recognise Riccin's ugly-ass voice even if you were deaf as them.

You are going to fucking murder them next time you come to the city - and then you're going to kill Myrrha for sending them. (This is what you get for being nice to a fucking greenblood. Their pans are too warm to preserve and too cold not to fucking crack with dumbass ideas.) You shake your husktop, but the camera screen won't move. The huskphone is still propped up on the ground, and you can't see or hear anything but the rustle of movement.

Goddamnit. Where the fuck is Marduk?

"Pheres," you snarl, trying and failing to keep calm. You're not made for this.. kind of inactive bullshit, and your bloodpusher is picking up pace, trying to get ready for you to do something.

You can't do shit.

"Pheres, don't you leave your fucking phone!"