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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"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.