Sid was still at that sensative point where the comment was construed more along the lines of 'those boils are awfully neat', but he tried to take it and stride. Trying to smile was even harder. He had an image to maintain, and that image was so bogged in mind altering substances it couldn't be bothered with little things like growing scales and teeth and weird dangly things from the spine. Why couldn't it be that easy?
It would be if he just went back to his duplex, carefully stepped over all the glass, and broke into what was left in the fridge. He could always clean up later.
"Take care," Sid said, still not sure what he'd done to soothe the tension so. He resumed eating, oblivious to the fact that was part of it. When he finished, he carried through with his plan.
