[It's easier to let it happen then to fight it off. So he writhes, painlessly and painfully all at the same time - letting Zephir rip into him like a vulture. His blood seeps out under them both and Sullivan stills, albeit purposely. He stares up at the ceiling, unblinking, eyes moving only after Zephir pulls back. They look at him from where he lays.]
I̸ ̸t̴o̶l̷d̴...
[He wheezes, sitting up - hand reaching to hold his throat together - realizing it'll be some time yet before it heals beyond the horrid view of sinew and muscle that he now wears. Pieces pressed together, his voice is hollower:]
It wasn't me, though I wish it was. I'll find what you need.
etc etc
I̸ ̸t̴o̶l̷d̴...
[He wheezes, sitting up - hand reaching to hold his throat together - realizing it'll be some time yet before it heals beyond the horrid view of sinew and muscle that he now wears. Pieces pressed together, his voice is hollower:]
It wasn't me, though I wish it was. I'll find what you need.