Pheres has curled into a ball, like a grub ready to die. By the time Castor gets to him, his breathing has slowed, but he's not dead. Just asleep, on the concrete floor splattered with his fluids.

Ze tries not to gag as Castor bends down next to him and picks him up, careful as he sometimes carries Hinnom. Ze can feel the rasp and slide of Pheres's weight against his telekinesis as Castor returns, but thankfully, not too well: it's Castor controlling it with the ease of sweeps of practice, and the sensation is like touching bone through flesh.

"You'll have to play look-out today," Castor warns zim. "But we won't go deep, just to the pipe."

Hinnom bobs their head in a nod, but they can't help the dubious look they shoot towards Pheres's horns. He might be able to fit, even with his dumbo shoulders, but his rack is kinda huge.

Oh, well. If they won't fit, Castor can always snap one off.