Caelan watches Hugh from the corner of their eye for a long moment at that. Watches the way Cassius’s form sags just a little against him under those fingers, skin trembling in the equivalent of a wormy sort of purr. Guy can’t stomach seeing a hollowed out corpse drop from a vent, but is all too willing to watch Cas eat. All because it’s who he is. Who he can’t help but be.
(God. Maybe Hugh is worming his way into their heart, too. No wonder it took less than a fucking week.)
“Mn, alright,” comes their neutral answer. They don’t bother dumping the remains out – another mercy in the form of baby steps. They do, however, untie the thing and let the mouth of it drop wet and leaking onto the mattress. “Don’t eat the bag, Cas. Plastic’s not good for you.”
“Of course, Hunter,” patiently said, followed by a louder hum of squirming as the worms chew through the mattress in their haste to get to the meat. Been busy, hasn’t he? Almost enough of them to fill up an extra pair of legs. Suppose he’s had the time to, not like Hugh could entertain him all hours of the day.
Caelan watches as the mass piles into the bag, hears the squishing wet thing that indicates he’s eating. The scraping of tiny mouths against bone. The bag undulates as he works, leaks through accidental holes in their eagerness.
They pull their eyes away. Shove their hands into their hoodie.
“You said two options,” they start, half-turning in their direction, “but one’s shit and the other’s – yeah. Risky.” A thumb tossed over their shoulder at the bag. “Especially if they’re anything like that guy’d been. Going alone’s not better though. Can’t really keep them from wringing your neck if we’re not there, and we know how that’d end.”
A lot of people dead, and not just from their teeth. Not just from them.
A dismissive gesture. “So. I stay here, and you take Cas. If they feel skittish, they vent me, and we’ll all find out together if it’ll be the thing that kills me.”
no subject
(God. Maybe Hugh is worming his way into their heart, too. No wonder it took less than a fucking week.)
“Mn, alright,” comes their neutral answer. They don’t bother dumping the remains out – another mercy in the form of baby steps. They do, however, untie the thing and let the mouth of it drop wet and leaking onto the mattress. “Don’t eat the bag, Cas. Plastic’s not good for you.”
“Of course, Hunter,” patiently said, followed by a louder hum of squirming as the worms chew through the mattress in their haste to get to the meat. Been busy, hasn’t he? Almost enough of them to fill up an extra pair of legs. Suppose he’s had the time to, not like Hugh could entertain him all hours of the day.
Caelan watches as the mass piles into the bag, hears the squishing wet thing that indicates he’s eating. The scraping of tiny mouths against bone. The bag undulates as he works, leaks through accidental holes in their eagerness.
They pull their eyes away. Shove their hands into their hoodie.
“You said two options,” they start, half-turning in their direction, “but one’s shit and the other’s – yeah. Risky.” A thumb tossed over their shoulder at the bag. “Especially if they’re anything like that guy’d been. Going alone’s not better though. Can’t really keep them from wringing your neck if we’re not there, and we know how that’d end.”
A lot of people dead, and not just from their teeth. Not just from them.
A dismissive gesture. “So. I stay here, and you take Cas. If they feel skittish, they vent me, and we’ll all find out together if it’ll be the thing that kills me.”