That giggling comment has his own sort of giggling bubbling out and spilling over. He leans into their shoulder, letting them support his weight along as he laughs.
"Can you imagine?" He wipes away a tear that isn't there. "Like being served an empty plate in a restaurant! I'm not sure you would even change." Because he certainly doesn't want to engage in any of that.
He shakes his head and gets up.
"Serves them right. It'd be like trying to encourage nec--" A knock at the front door has him cutting off. He looks to it in disbelief. "No. It can't be that fast." There's another, more urgent knock. "Oh for crying out loud."
He makes his way to the front door and swings it open. Lo and behold, what should he find? The succubi and incubi, of course, looking almost pitiful enough to pity. He doesn't want to make them suffer anymore. That urge left him when his attempts to destroy the club led to them invading the hotel and taking who they could, God's suburb, and the insanity the month after as punishment, but most of all, when it upset Lillith who reminded him that these were her children. Still, he doesn't like them and he can't help being a little amused that, at long last, they had no power over him.
As if sensing his smugness-- which, truthfully, isn't hard with his crossed arms and the look on his face-- they quickly (whine) insist, "It was ordered."
"You have to feed us!"
"You can't just say no."
He looks unimpressed. "How about, 'it's impossible' or, 'try somewhere else', then? Either way, you're not welcome in our house."
"You can't tell us--!" A demon starts, furious, only to be cut off by another. One who's a little more aware of the desperation behind their slow starvation.
"We'll be outside, by the bedroom. But you still have to try. It was ordered," The second demon says, a little calmly but still firm.
With a great sigh, he throws up his hands. "I'm shutting the door. I'll go to the bedroom with my partner but I'm telling you, this isn't happening."
He gives no more warning before doing just that and turning to Nekane. That amused grin keeps trying to twitch back into place.
They raise an eyebrow at the door knocks and another when they hear the resulting conversation. As someone who's experienced starvation for a long, long time, they know it's not fun. Sex and food isn't the same thing but from what they understand there's little difference for the succubi and incubi.
But still. Encouraging necrophilia. Gross.
They don't know if they should laugh or puke. Nekane stands up, shaking their head.
"Fucking hell. Feel bad for the bullshit they gotta deal with but...don't think I'm that fucking--" They shrug. Nekane's pretty sure that the demon who made they hadn't thought that far when it came to their body.
But they do drag themself to the bedroom...but rather then get on the bed or undress, they just open the window.
"You idiots do realize we're not fucking compatible, right? I can't do shit and he's a skeleton."
There's...well, nothing there. Or whatever. Fuck, this is awkward as fuck.
In no time, Héctor has joined Nekane at the window, again leaning into them. He shouts over them, "It doesn't work like that!"
There are a few frustrated jeers. He once again groans in exasperation. Then he drops down on the bed.
"This is ridiculous. You know what? To hell with it." He slips his arms from his vest, then slips off the straps of his suspenders. "We'll get undressed, nothing will happen, they'll leave, and we'll take a nice warm bath. How's that sound, Nekane?"
"I wanna fucking shoot myself," Is their deadpan response. But they slam the window shut and, because they are actually annoyed by the jeers, uses a shadow claw to drag a dresser over to cover up the window. There. Demons would still get whatever energy they're convinced they're going to get but they won't get a free show out of it. There's some grumbling outside but Nekane stands on their tip toes to flip the demons off.
They're going to get what they're convinced will happen. Suck it up.
Nekane drops their jacket onto a nearby chair and starts on their tie. Even after so long they're slow to get undressed but they do try to speed it up, if just to get this stupidity over with. There goes their shirt and they start working on their belt next.
"I get why this shit sucks for them but there's so many other fucking people here," Nekane grumbles. "Why not ask them?"
They know why. It's because life fucking hates them.
Although hearing them say stuff like that isn't his favorite, the rest of the display makes him snort and laugh. He does feel better for the privacy too.
His own belt is a hassle. He's had the rope tied around his hips for so long that knot has gone stiff. He yanks, pulls, huffs. Then, at last, it goes free and he sets the rope and the attached pouch to the side. His torn up pants are kicked off, his tie is removed, then, last but not least, he sets the hat aside.
He's actually surprised by how much smaller being "naked" like this makes him feel. What he's not surprised by is that his disinterest in the asked-for-event is still well and present. He snorts, stands, and walks over to Nekane, reaching to push their hair back from their forehead. He puts a kiss there, for their troubles.
"We're married," He reminds them, with a thrill in the empty cage of his ribs for that statement alone. "By God's rules, only the married are supposed to engage this." Not even enjoying it, if he recalls right. He remembers finding that part rather silly.
Off with their pants, for which he can't help but look down. Seeing the absolute nothing of anything reproductive, he can't help but laugh again. He bumps his head to theirs as he does.
"There you are. If you ever needed it, absolute proof I like you for you alone," He says.
He really does look smaller without any clothing. Héctor isn't the first skeleton that Nekane's ever seen, even before Hell, but it's only now they've really thought about it. It'd be interesting...if this shit wasn't happening.
Nekane doesn't have to look down at themself to know nothing's changed, nor do they want to really look in particular. "I think my fucking personality would have scared you off otherwise," But despite their dry tone, they do smile briefly.
And then close their eyes and mentally start counting. "After twenty seconds I'm putting my fucking clothes back on."
There's a chores of boos from outside. And they hope after twenty seconds, nothing will have happened.
He laughs. The booing demons outside on the other hand get a sideglance. He falls quiet as the countdown begins. Twenty seconds of bracing themselves, hardly a time at all, yet he could swear it feels longer.
He glances down again at their unchanged state. What makes him sure that time is up though is that there's a firm knock at the window. The knocking continues in intervals until the dresser is moved.
Once it is, it'll be Héctor going to it to answer it, the window lifted up so he can snap, "What?"
The answer is a noxious looking potion with bubbles on the inside being thrust at him. He steps back, repulsed. The demon is the one looking unimpressed now.
"It's for you. Drink it," The Incubi commands. Héctor looks from the bottle to the demon and back again. Then, with a grumble, he snatches the bottle. Or rather, his hand passes through and he snatches its glowing copy. Then he points.
"This is sick. You're sick."
He trudges back to the bed and sits down upon it, making a face at the bottle and its contents. He glances at Nekane.
They're reaching for their pants and belt, happy that this bullshit has stopped before it could get started, but then the knocking just has them groaning in annoyance. So does the drink, but they're going to be smart about it.
"Hold it. I know you guys got a rough fucking deal but I ain't letting him drink something that'll hurt him just so you can eat. I want your guarantee this shit won't hurt Héctor or I'm going to rat you assholes out to your new boss right fucking now. And if it does hurt him..."
And they cross their arms and wait. As much as they want to get this over and done with, they're not doing it at his expense. Fuck that.
One of the demons to the back, a younger-looking one, starts to cheerily sing-song, "Hurt so good~"
This ends in a yelp as the demon next to them elbows them sharply. The demon at the window looks exhausted with the antics.
"It'll change him. It won't hurt. You've obviously got the leverage against us." This time, goes unsaid.
Héctor heaves a defeated sigh. Then he lifts the bottle up.
"Bottoms up," He says without enthusiasm. He tips the vile concoction back, regretting that he still has the ability to taste. The bottle is set down hard on the nightstand. He sits, rigid, face screwed up and eyes squeezed shut.
He lurches suddenly, nearly folding, as his body shakes and trembles. Something seems to form over him, like clay, spreading over his limbs and giving them form. The more that spreads, the more human it looks, becoming flesh. It's not the body of before, the carved in words and the crossed-out eye, but scars show all the same in the place of each lost or broken bone-- his leg is badly done, his arm, a spot on his back, and, as he rises up, a scar at the front, over his ribs, can be seen too. There's one last little line of a scar going diagonal over his cheekbone in place of a hairline crack, but it's hardly noticeable next to the bright marks that have made it through his skin, the colorful rainbow once on his bones now settled on his cheeks like paint.
Face still screwed up, he opens one eye, then the other. He looks down at himself.
And promptly, he screams.
He scrambles frantically backwards like he can outrun his own form, moving so fast he actually slips back over the other side of the bed, tumbling to the floor.
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no subject
"Can you imagine?" He wipes away a tear that isn't there. "Like being served an empty plate in a restaurant! I'm not sure you would even change." Because he certainly doesn't want to engage in any of that.
He shakes his head and gets up.
"Serves them right. It'd be like trying to encourage nec--" A knock at the front door has him cutting off. He looks to it in disbelief. "No. It can't be that fast." There's another, more urgent knock. "Oh for crying out loud."
He makes his way to the front door and swings it open. Lo and behold, what should he find? The succubi and incubi, of course, looking almost pitiful enough to pity. He doesn't want to make them suffer anymore. That urge left him when his attempts to destroy the club led to them invading the hotel and taking who they could, God's suburb, and the insanity the month after as punishment, but most of all, when it upset Lillith who reminded him that these were her children. Still, he doesn't like them and he can't help being a little amused that, at long last, they had no power over him.
As if sensing his smugness-- which, truthfully, isn't hard with his crossed arms and the look on his face-- they quickly (whine) insist, "It was ordered."
"You have to feed us!"
"You can't just say no."
He looks unimpressed. "How about, 'it's impossible' or, 'try somewhere else', then? Either way, you're not welcome in our house."
"You can't tell us--!" A demon starts, furious, only to be cut off by another. One who's a little more aware of the desperation behind their slow starvation.
"We'll be outside, by the bedroom. But you still have to try. It was ordered," The second demon says, a little calmly but still firm.
With a great sigh, he throws up his hands. "I'm shutting the door. I'll go to the bedroom with my partner but I'm telling you, this isn't happening."
He gives no more warning before doing just that and turning to Nekane. That amused grin keeps trying to twitch back into place.
no subject
But still. Encouraging necrophilia. Gross.
They don't know if they should laugh or puke. Nekane stands up, shaking their head.
"Fucking hell. Feel bad for the bullshit they gotta deal with but...don't think I'm that fucking--" They shrug. Nekane's pretty sure that the demon who made they hadn't thought that far when it came to their body.
But they do drag themself to the bedroom...but rather then get on the bed or undress, they just open the window.
"You idiots do realize we're not fucking compatible, right? I can't do shit and he's a skeleton."
There's...well, nothing there. Or whatever. Fuck, this is awkward as fuck.
no subject
"Let him pleasure you then!" Says another.
In no time, Héctor has joined Nekane at the window, again leaning into them. He shouts over them, "It doesn't work like that!"
There are a few frustrated jeers. He once again groans in exasperation. Then he drops down on the bed.
"This is ridiculous. You know what? To hell with it." He slips his arms from his vest, then slips off the straps of his suspenders. "We'll get undressed, nothing will happen, they'll leave, and we'll take a nice warm bath. How's that sound, Nekane?"
no subject
They're going to get what they're convinced will happen. Suck it up.
Nekane drops their jacket onto a nearby chair and starts on their tie. Even after so long they're slow to get undressed but they do try to speed it up, if just to get this stupidity over with. There goes their shirt and they start working on their belt next.
"I get why this shit sucks for them but there's so many other fucking people here," Nekane grumbles. "Why not ask them?"
They know why. It's because life fucking hates them.
no subject
His own belt is a hassle. He's had the rope tied around his hips for so long that knot has gone stiff. He yanks, pulls, huffs. Then, at last, it goes free and he sets the rope and the attached pouch to the side. His torn up pants are kicked off, his tie is removed, then, last but not least, he sets the hat aside.
He's actually surprised by how much smaller being "naked" like this makes him feel. What he's not surprised by is that his disinterest in the asked-for-event is still well and present. He snorts, stands, and walks over to Nekane, reaching to push their hair back from their forehead. He puts a kiss there, for their troubles.
"We're married," He reminds them, with a thrill in the empty cage of his ribs for that statement alone. "By God's rules, only the married are supposed to engage this." Not even enjoying it, if he recalls right. He remembers finding that part rather silly.
Off with their pants, for which he can't help but look down. Seeing the absolute nothing of anything reproductive, he can't help but laugh again. He bumps his head to theirs as he does.
"There you are. If you ever needed it, absolute proof I like you for you alone," He says.
no subject
Nekane doesn't have to look down at themself to know nothing's changed, nor do they want to really look in particular. "I think my fucking personality would have scared you off otherwise," But despite their dry tone, they do smile briefly.
And then close their eyes and mentally start counting. "After twenty seconds I'm putting my fucking clothes back on."
There's a chores of boos from outside. And they hope after twenty seconds, nothing will have happened.
no subject
He glances down again at their unchanged state. What makes him sure that time is up though is that there's a firm knock at the window. The knocking continues in intervals until the dresser is moved.
Once it is, it'll be Héctor going to it to answer it, the window lifted up so he can snap, "What?"
The answer is a noxious looking potion with bubbles on the inside being thrust at him. He steps back, repulsed. The demon is the one looking unimpressed now.
"It's for you. Drink it," The Incubi commands. Héctor looks from the bottle to the demon and back again. Then, with a grumble, he snatches the bottle. Or rather, his hand passes through and he snatches its glowing copy. Then he points.
"This is sick. You're sick."
He trudges back to the bed and sits down upon it, making a face at the bottle and its contents. He glances at Nekane.
no subject
"Hold it. I know you guys got a rough fucking deal but I ain't letting him drink something that'll hurt him just so you can eat. I want your guarantee this shit won't hurt Héctor or I'm going to rat you assholes out to your new boss right fucking now. And if it does hurt him..."
And they cross their arms and wait. As much as they want to get this over and done with, they're not doing it at his expense. Fuck that.
no subject
This ends in a yelp as the demon next to them elbows them sharply. The demon at the window looks exhausted with the antics.
"It'll change him. It won't hurt. You've obviously got the leverage against us." This time, goes unsaid.
Héctor heaves a defeated sigh. Then he lifts the bottle up.
"Bottoms up," He says without enthusiasm. He tips the vile concoction back, regretting that he still has the ability to taste. The bottle is set down hard on the nightstand. He sits, rigid, face screwed up and eyes squeezed shut.
He lurches suddenly, nearly folding, as his body shakes and trembles. Something seems to form over him, like clay, spreading over his limbs and giving them form. The more that spreads, the more human it looks, becoming flesh. It's not the body of before, the carved in words and the crossed-out eye, but scars show all the same in the place of each lost or broken bone-- his leg is badly done, his arm, a spot on his back, and, as he rises up, a scar at the front, over his ribs, can be seen too. There's one last little line of a scar going diagonal over his cheekbone in place of a hairline crack, but it's hardly noticeable next to the bright marks that have made it through his skin, the colorful rainbow once on his bones now settled on his cheeks like paint.
Face still screwed up, he opens one eye, then the other. He looks down at himself.
And promptly, he screams.
He scrambles frantically backwards like he can outrun his own form, moving so fast he actually slips back over the other side of the bed, tumbling to the floor.