Welcome to Gaia! ::

F blinked vacantly at her for a moment, apparently equally surprised to see her there, before remembering what he was here for.

"A-hallo," he slurred politely in as sober a manner as he could currently manage. "C'n I use yer barfroom?"
He seemed to have unwittingly invented a more accurate term for the room. He wasn't likely to have a bath in there, after all.

F had already stumbled past her and over to the bathroom door by the time she had suggested she showed him.
"Cheers" he said with a brief wave of his hand. After disappearing behind it he flailed a couple of fingers at the lock in the hopes that this would achieved the desired result.

Now, if Maryke were foolish enough not to have pre-emptively chewed her particularly receptive ears off by this point, she would be graced with some awfully lovely sounds.

On the other side of the door, F had found the toilet, plopped down in front of it, and vomited quite profusely on the bathmat.
"Ruh. So'y" he attempted an apology in the direction of the bathroom door, and would aim better next time.

F would never have guessed that this was not entirely the effect of alcohol ingestion, but actually mostly a result of an injection that he had been given quite sneakily in his sleep the previous night. This was preparation for his very first change. Which was about the commence approximately.. now.

F gave a drunken, uncertain grin at the woman's strange behaviour, newly bristly eyebrows unevenly high. He then took it upon himself to leave the bathroom as she had wanted, walking unsteadily past her.
"Y' migh' want t' clean vad up." he suggested as he left the room, gesturing vaguely behind him with one hand while massaging his stomach with the other.

"Oh, fanks" he mumbled as he staggered back out of her duplex with an unbalanced hop. He then stumbled down the stairs, unintentionally sliding down the last few.

The night had been vaguely disappointing, but after a bit of thought and a few cigarettes the morning after the fact, Antony had chalked it up to him being drunk and her having naturally high expectations. Either way, the moment the sun had breached the horizon, the squirrel had wanted up. So Antony did the only thing she could do that wouldn't jostle F awake, worm her way into a sitting position and light up.

An ashtray was next to her on the bed and she looked out the window, slightly nervous about what would happen when he woke up, hungover but otherwise no longer intoxicated. Would he scream and leave in a hurry? She partially expected him to, but not so secretly hoped he didn't. A self esteem crushing action such as that was something she really had no urge to deal with at the moment, or ever again but that was pushing it.

And so she quietly smoked.

F slept late. Very late. He had appeared to wake up a couple of times over the morning but only long enough to mumble something incoherent and then simply drift off again.

Sprawled across the bed, on his back and stark naked under the sheets, F stirred slightly for a third time. After a moment, he groaned and peeled open his eyelids, a vaguely room-shaped blur slowly materialising around him. His pale eyes flicked towards the window before he wished they hadn't. The man hissed quietly at the inconsiderate sunlight, rolled over with his eyes squinted shut and fell off the bed with a muffled grunt, taking most of the bed sheets with him.

Of course it hadn't yet occurred to him to try and recollect the happenings of the previous night.

Severe dehydration and certain highly exhausting acts had propelled his hangover to a category most people could only dream of.

Knowing the woes of terrible hangovers, Antony let the man sleep, but it could not be ignored when he went man overboard and took her covers. The thud really wasn't her main concern, but the sudden cool air that surrounded her was much more annoying. She couldn't see F on the floor after all.

The squirrelly one cursed and finally pushed herself out of bed to find some sort of clothes. Last night's discarded cami was easy enough to find, but the panties weren't so simple. After a bit of searching, they were shrugged on as well.

Now to evaluate the damage.

She crept over to the fallen body after closing the window shades quietly. "F?" Antony questioned as softly as she could, kneeling down onto the floor next to him before sliding onto her tookus, tails curling around her. "You need some water probably..."

The fall woke F up rather effectively.

Or more accurately, the landing did.

As he lay there, his eyes grew wide with the sudden realisation that, as far as he was aware, his skull had been chopped into tiny pieces with a bath sponge and badly re-assembled by an epileptic Taiwanese boy, and hence ached accordingly.

In the time it took for Antony to find herself some clothes, F managed to gurgle a little bit.

"Yes?" he answered dully, rolling back over to peer at the ceiling and bringing his hands up to massage his eyes and face.
...A face that felt freakish and wrong. He withdrew his hands suddenly and made his best attempt at looking at his own facial features without the use of a mirror. His eyes then strayed off in thought, and a vague image from last night's transformation blessed his mind.

"An' a sm-hoke please." he requested meekly with a mid-word cough he didn't bother to correct. His stomach immediately jostled for some attention, rumbling obnoxiously. "Also, food."

Being quite this hungry wasn't a normal morning after effect for F..

With a flick of her wrist, she offered him the rest of her smoke too keep him occupied while she gathered his other requests. A hand reached to push a few fallen dreads out of his face before patting him on the head. "I'll be right back."

The same hand was then held out for him in case he wanted help up.

Should he accept, then she'd help him up, but if not, she'd simply shrug and head off to get him a glass of water. It took her a bit, but soon she came back with a goodie bag of fun.

Rather, she came back with a glass of water, a pack of cigs, a lighter, and some cold pancakes she had previously swiped from the cafe. All of which were set on the bed. "It's the best I've got," she murmured, still keeping her voice down.

"And," Antony held up her index finger comically before opening her nightstand drawer and pulling out a bottle of tylonel, shaking him out two a moment later. The bottle was then tossed back in next to her other bedside toys and necessities.

F outstretched his hand to her and sucked blindly on the thin cylinder that had been offered to him, initially hoping (and soon being assured) that it was a cigarette.

"M'gay." he said placidly, oblivious to how much this utterance sounded like an impromptu confession of homosexuality.

He squinted briefly at her offered hand up, before accepting it awkwardly. Despite not particularly wanting to leave the comfort of the floor, he desperately needed to pee. And that wasn't really something Antony could do for him.

"So I'm naked." he said observantly as he reached his feet, voice scratchy and struggling to function. Uncaring at this point, he shuffled off to the bathroom with the cig still in his mouth, hearing her gather up various things from around the kitchen and bedroom.

"We had sex," she stated bluntly, yawning and lighting herself a new cigarette, which she puffed on placidly while waiting for him to come back from the bathroom.

For a moment, she debated hopping in for a quick shower, but the mass of tails reminded her how she could no longer take a 'quick' shower. Bummer. It'd have to wait then.

There was relative silence from the bathroom after Antony announced this fact quite frankly.
The toilet was flushed and the flea-man emerged from the bathroom once more, holding his own balled up shirt in front of him.

"You shou' be more careful. You really ******** a guy up when you do vat." he eventually complained groggily, insinuating with a frown that it was entirely her fault that he felt as s**t as he looked.

He then extracted his jeans from the floor on the way back towards the bed. F hadn't the foggiest where his boxers were.

Downing the water with the medicine and then sitting on the bed near her, he took a cig and the lighter in one hand and a pancake in the other. It seemed he'd lost her old cigarette somewhere in the bathroom -hopefully stubbed out safely somewhere.

He took a generous bite out of the pancake, and almost immediately pulled a rather uncomfortable expression. He stuck out his tongue so that the food fell from his mouth and onto his hand.
"'ow long 'ave you 'ad vese?" he waved the barely chewed bit of pancake at her, looking concerned.

"I just didn't say no," she retorted, narrowing her eyes at the complaint. Granted, it -was- her fault that they had sex, seeing as she was the only sober one of the pair, but that didn't excuse him entirely. "You got drunk and came over here..."

As if that would explain everything.

Antony ran her hand over her muzzle to soothe any possible headache back to where ever mean brain pains lived. "Yesterday. Since yesterday." She said slowly, repeating herself as her brows furrowed in confusion, reaching out and breaking off a piece of the breakfast food.

After chewing and swallowing, the squirrel woman gave him a worried look. Undoubtedly this had to be due to the fact that he had recently changed because the pancake was not as horrible as he seemed to think. "What do you want to eat?" She asked delicately before taking another pull of her handy dandy smoke.

F briefly wondered how he'd gotten to her duplex in the first place. There seemed to be whole chunks missing from his memory. If he was lucky, they'd turn up sooner or later. Probably when he least expected it.

The flea eyed the squirrel suspiciously with one raised brow. "You took a'vantage of li'l ol' me.." he concluded slowly, the corners of his mouth twitching.

He watched her carefully as she chewed on what was intended to be his breakfast.
"I don' know." he whined tiredly. "But all I can taste on vat is chemicals."

She took on an expression of mock hurt like he had insulted her horribly, cigarette-less hand going to her chest as her eyes went wide. "Are you saying that I was bad?" He could interpret whichever meaning of its many that fit his cause the best.

His whine slowly etched away at her jovial attitude, draining into a frown of sorts. Once again, her lip ring became an object of her thoughtful nibbling before she suddenly reached out to run her thumb over the split in his forehead.

"I don't know what you're turning into..." Antony sighed. "The transformation could have triggered dietary changes as well... That's probably why this tastes horrible to you." At least, she hoped it was that simple.

F simply squinted at her, then shut his eyes in an attempt to prod his head cogs into coming up with some kind of deserved retort.

"No.." he found himself saying after a delay, "M'saying you were Antony." He gave an innocent smile and a mild shrug. That would do.

"Nrar." he gurgled quietly at her sudden touch. "I was 'oping for a chimpanzee. Always wanted t' fling monkey poo."

He shook his head suddenly.
"God I'm 'ungry vough." he said, staring down at the remains of the pancake. After a moment spent considering the harmless looking food, he suddenly shoved it quite defiantly into his mouth. F then proceeded to chew on it lengthily, making all kinds of faces before suddenly gagging and looking for the nearest object that wouldn't mind having semi-regurgitated pancake spat into it.
It was a pretty little bowl that sat helplessly on the side.

"Cafe?" he turned back and suggested simply, fingering the slightly crushed unlit cigarette still in his hand.

Her eyes were intense as he replied to her jokings, nodding slowly. "I don't think it's even mammal..." It was a sad sort of verdict.

Antony cringed when he spat it all into something or another, looking away for a moment before nodding at his comment. "Let me get dressed," she said with a light smile, sliding off of the bed and tugging off her camisole.

It was obvious that she didn't have any problem with stripping in front of him, or with getting dressed again. Not bothering with a bra, she threw on a tighter wifebeater and a pair of old jeans. She'd wait for him to dress before heading out.

"Nodarammel?" F murmured to himself. The flea-man didn't even properly remember what he looked like anymore.

He didn't give a whole lot of attention to the passing nakedness of the squirrel-woman either, and instead fumbled with his clothing.
F wriggled into his own wifebeater and then realised he'd still not got his boxers. He spotted a convenient pair on the floor and picked them up with his toes. Apparently they weren't his, but F didn't seem either notice or care at that point, and pulled them on anyway.

Not too long ago, he'd been wearing far more objectionable ladies underwear, after all. But Antony didn't need to know about that, ever.

He flopped into his jean shorts and lurched off the bed, silently following her out and lighting the now bent cigarette along the way before unthinkingly pocketing her lighter.

Antony ruffled his dreads in a consolatory gesture during the walk to the café. "At least you're not turning into an octopus, or some other cephalopod." As far as she could tell he wasn't, at least.

It wasn't long before they were approaching the cafeteria, but the albino was still cursing herself for forgetting her sunglasses back in her duplex.

F mock-glared at her with this action. "A whatopod?" he asked, his tongue poking out slightly. "I pity vuh poor sod turning into vat."


Once inside the building, F gravitated towards the nearest edible item. He moved along the sections, peering and sniffing at the various different foods on offer. Every so often he would pick something up and, while the canteen staff weren't looking, give it a quick lick -usually followed by a disgusted snort. F would then put the food back where it came from, and try something else.

Antony would soon lose track of which foods had been assaulted by the flea's tongue, and which were still safe to consume.

At one point, F appeared vaguely satisfied with a large piece of rare meat. He licked it clean, and then took an experimental bite.
"Tastes like cotton wool." he announced around the meat and spat it into the rubbish bin, swiftly moving on to try out some cabbage.

F was growing increasingly disturbed by how narrowed down his diet appeared to be becoming.

Antony really didn't have to keep track, and instead asked Delia for a fresh batch of various nuts and seeds. The usual ziplock bag full of squirrelly nibblers, as it were. She knew that F hadn't eaten any of those fresh from the supplier herself.

Eventually, however, the albino's stomach was grumbling for something more satisfying then simply nuts and seeds, and she cautiously grabbed herself an apple under all the others. A knife was also snagged on the way back to her declared seat. It had quite the view of F, The Show.

Absently, she began to slice up the apple, and with a slip of the wrist, Antony managed to knick her finger. "********," she hissed, fumbling for the nearest napkin. Maybe she shouldn't have been watching F while slicing up something with a sharp knife.

Her finger throbbed and continued to bleed even after the wound had been wrapped with napkins. Well this was just her luck. At least now, her attention was far from F and his lick-a-thon.

F's painfully empty flea stomach growled in complaint at the lack of success he'd had so far.
"Easy vere" he drawled at her, leaving the lemon tart he was currently prodding hopelessly and making his way over to where Antony sat.. bleeding.

F's nose twitched when he got closer -something he ignored. He flopped down onto the seat next to her and slowly slid down it dejectedly. There, he noticed Antony's finger -all throbbing and bloody and strangely appealing. F found himself staring fixatedly.

"I's no good. I suppose I'll jus' starve." he said to the finger, instinctively edging closer to the woman.

"I mean, maybe I'm becoming somefing vat only eats dry roasted cockroaches, glazed with parmesan and fresh basil-" he rambled conversationably, slowly leaning forward.
"-'ow would I ever know vat?" he asked of the bloody digit.

"An 'ow come vis's happened so sudden?" his mouth was inches from it now.
"People don' usually get stuck on critter food after changing jus' once..." he trailed off and smoothly made to lick at her bandaged finger.

He didn't even need to mull over the taste. In F's mind, the old metallic tang of blood took on a new vehemence and immediately declared itself as The most delicious, satisfying taste he could ever have imagined. He would lick at her finger like a dog until she pulled it away.
If she didn't, he would attempt to pull off the napkins for better access, and so that his saliva could work as the anticoagulant that it had become.

It seemed F and his lick-a-thon most definitely demanded Antony's attention again.

The fact of what he was doing hadn't yet sunk in. All he knew is that it satisfied an urge somewhere.

"Thanks for the warning," she grumbled at his drawl, applying pressure while not paying much attention to the sulking and rambling F.

That is, not until he began talking of fried cockroaches or whatever strange concoctions he was coming up with that she turned her attention to him. More acurately, his face. Which at the moment, had a very strange, very intense expression plastered to it.

He was being weird, and if that didn't bother Antony, it sure as hell was alerting her squirrel counterpart. "What are you doing?" She asked stupidly, edging up off her chair just the slightest bit.

Again, she or the squirrel weren't exactly expecting him to lick her bandaged, bloody finger, and so she was stunned for brief moment. Seconds later she barked in warning and yanked her hand from his grasp, the napkin bandage falling off and onto the table with her half sliced apple.

Her eyes were wide and her tails bristled as she put a good chunk of wary distance between the two of them. New napkins were grabbed from another table and wrapped tightly around her finger once more, but only after several drops had spilled and leaked out onto the floor, her fur, and her clothing.

Stains were the least on her mind at that particular moment, however.

"What the ******** are you doing?!" Antony cried, a bit of prey fear evident in her voice. She longed for an escape tree right about now.

His head tilted and he peered at the table, focusing on where the blood-covered napkin had fallen.
"'scuse me." he mumbled apologetically before reaching to pick it up and bring it to his mouth, licking at it tenderly. He'd have sucked on it if he had the lips to do so.

Only Antony's cry made the creature look up from what it was doing, and prompted the horrible feeling of his whole body having suddenly retreated five foot behind him, while his eyeballs were left to explain themselves awkwardly.

F's hands reached for the back of his head and he held them there almost in self-restraint.

"Fffpt-" he spluttered weakly, as if his brain was in the process of exploding.
"I- I don' know." he answered simply, with one arm held up in front of him in a half-shrug, like he'd just been asked where the stapler was.

His eyes, however, were wide and entirely unsure of where to rest their gaze; holding just as much fear as the squirrel woman displayed.

Her jaw hung open loosely as he picked up the (in her mind) dirty napkin and began to lick at it almost lovingly. It was horrifyingly wrong to her, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from him. Not that she wanted to for fear of being... Licked again? She wasn't sure what was going on anymore.

It was a long time before her mouth shut and her voice, shaky and low, returned to her. "Vampires...? They aren't animals... Please don't eat me." Obviously, she was utterly confused as well.

The cutless hand rubbed her muzzle in a soothing, grooming fashion which at the moment wasn't working as well as it usually did.

In all honesty, she was scared more from the fact that she had no clue what he could possibly be turning into (and if their diet included squirrel or not) than the fact that he wanted to lick her finger. "Um," Antony started out again, pushing her still sex ruffled hair out of her face, "Do you want to suck my finger?"

It was like a bad 'pull my finger' joke. Only there was no punchline to make it humorous.

"Vampire?" F considered while staring at the space near Antony's head. "I ain't got the choppers for it." he said finally and tapped the still human teeth that hid behind his flea 'tache.

His eyes flicked to her rather distressed squirrel face.
"Hey.." he interjected, a characteristic 'F' glint in his eye, even if it Was somewhat forced. "A' least I'm not a celafopod." he said with a careless shrug.

He was a little stunned by her offer, however, and nodded slowly in response.
"I would love to suck your finger." he purred quietly, eyebrow quirking as he digested the exchanged words.

This was utterly crazy. The whole world had swivelled on it's end and been shaken like a snowglobe just to see what happened.

F's eyes following the finger in question wherever it went, but waited hungrily for it to actually be offered up to him.

A smile found itself creeping onto her muzzle as he poked at his teeth, a chuckle breaking through moments later. Not being a cephalopod was indeed a positive outlook.

She watched him quietly as he made his decision, repeating his nod herself, lips quirking upward in a genuine motion. "Okay then."

With a face rub and a few slow steps towards him, the squirrel woman started her treck back to the Romanian. Eventually, she got there, and awkwardly offered her wrapped finger to F. "Just don't bite it off," she joked nervously, leaning against his leg for support.

Absently, she tried to reach for a chair or something to sit on.

F gave a slight grin at the pure strangeness of the situation while carefully removing the napkins and adding them to the collection on the table.

He then stuck out his tongue and gently licked the growing bud of life that began to ooze from the cut, before putting his mouth around the finger and peering up casually at it's owner. Inside, the three sections of his strange new tongue seemed to naturally want to curl together and form a hollow tube through which the juice could be sucked and directed to his throat like a makeshift straw.

The flea in him revelled in the seemingly morbid ritual, and the rest of him felt some oddly maternal connection as his eyelids fell placidly.

Whilst F's slobber still lingered on it, blood would continue to flow from the cut. Even then, the blood spilt from a finger wasn't enough to satisfy his lasting hunger.

"Perhaps I can have a little nibble on your neck later." F's brow raised as he looked back up at her playfully.

There never is a good time to change.

Itchiness gradually gest worse througout the day as it feels like you've got a heat rash over parts of your exposed skin. When prickling sensations of new white fur begins to emerge through previously bare patches of skin, you realize what's happening.

It doesn't take long for the pigmentless fur to spread over most of the rest of your body, save for a patch on your stomach, your hands, and your feet. As it grows, and as you can't help but itch, certain areas of your skin become looser, moving as you itch them - particularly the back of your legs and under your arms. It's somewhat unnerving.

Your bulky feet begin to ache as your toes grow longer, more nimble, taking on more of the features of fingers than mere stubby toes.

Your smaller tails push out longer, gaining more fur, fluffing up to be fully functional tails alongside the others. Meanwhile, your incisors (tops and bottoms) grow out, curving slightly and the urge to chew on things like a teething toddler rears its head. However, for the time being, the pain in your face as a small muzzle begins to push out distracts you.

Finally, like all the other changes, your heart rate begins to settle as the changes come to an end.

She sat down landing in his lap and not the chair, but not really caring, as her attention was entirely on him sucking lewdly on her finger. At least now she knew why his tongue was split into three little tongue-lets.

Suddenly distracted, Antony felt heated and itchy, and so, she scratched. "Ahh," she groaned, moving to stand while rubbing her arms, and only when she felt the fur growing did she notice what was happening.

Blood forgotten, she stumbled backwards as the bones in her toes lengthend and crunched. She fell into the table, bounced off rather resiliantly, and ricocheted into the nearest chair. Both objects were knocked off their feet onto the floor, only the chair wasn't screaming in agony.

Loose skin went unnoticed in favor of five spines lengthening, and the splitting of two new ones. In fact, everything else pretty much was trumped pain wise by the growing and lengthing of her tails.

She writhed. She screamed. And she cried.

There were moments were she prayed to just pass out, or maybe even die. Anything to stop the pain coursing through her spine. Her vision was blurred as she tried pathetically to crawl away from the pain in her tails.

Finally, she gave up and sobbed into the floor.

Blood from her finger was smeared all along the floor thanks to F's saliva, nail marks were scraped into parts of the floor, and she was left laying there, muscles twitching and spasming still from the fresh change. Everything hurt and Antony was unable to tell where the pain was located except 'everywhere'.

It burned, ached, throbbed, and stabbed in varying degrees and localities. Thankfully, her heart rate had leveled off and the squirrel woman was beginning to cool down.

A little sucking never hurt anyone! Really!

Antony was inclined to disagree.

"Hey-" As his meal pulled away, F was about to complain that he wasn't nearly done yet, but the not yet formed complaint was soon silenced when he noticed her rabid scratching.
"Oh bollocks." he breathed. "I'm sorry! I didn' know I was carrying diseases.." he followed her to a stand.

"..Is it really vat ba-aah" he was about to suggest she was over-reacting, but decided solidly against it as white fur erupted over her skin. He cringed as she fell about the place, attempting to catch her but failing miserably, one step behind her.

He gave his own yelp of shock at the sight of her tails multiplying.
"Yer tail's.. 'aving babies.." he croaked usefully.

"Guh-" he stuttered out of helplessness. "Ara-" he added, hands crumpling into fists as he crouched next to her on the ground and tried to think how he could possibly help while trying to ignore all the wasted blood on the floor.

"You done?" he ventured finally.
It should be known that he tried. The simple fact was that F was about as helpful as horse s**t in a moment of crisis.

The tears and twitches were slowing, but they hadn't stopped by the time she raised her head and looked up at F. Regardless of the changes, Antony looked like a shell of her former self. Weak and broken, her ears and tails drooped except for the occasional muscle flick.

"I think so," she answered, all the other questions lost in transformation.

A long silence went by before she pulled herself towards him, only then notcing the blood all over the floor. "Why am I still bleeding?" She asked plainly, looking stupidly towards her finger.

Antony soon concluded it irrelevant, and pushed herself into a sitting position, non-blood stained arm reaching to bring him closer. "Get me pain killers, or pot... Scratch that, and pot," she finally decided, just wanting to curl up, feel no more pain, and have someone hold and comfort her at the moment. "Then humor me with a long hug..."

F simply grit his teeth out of empathetic pain for her.

He only knew about as much as she herself did, and shrugged accordingly at her question. "Maybe you're.. What- What is it when you don' stop bleedin'?" he frowned, silently struggling with the urge to go and lick her bloody fur.

"Sure." he nodded, reaching to give her shoulder a hesitant rub. It was certainly his turn to return the favours she'd done him, after all.
"Where d'vey keep vuh weed around 'ere?" he asked, vaguely curious to know himself.

"In my duplex," she muttered, leaning into his touch before attempting to stand, feeling a bit woozy. Supporting herself on the table, she dunked her finger in her glass of water before wrapping it again. This time, with clean napkins.

With the rinse and the pressure, the bleeding finally seemed to be stopping, and she sighed in relief. Now that was one less thing to worry about.

Regardless, she let herself return to the floor, the blood, and F, who's lap she crawled into almost immediately, roughly nosing his chest. "Just for a little bit," she whispered roughly, curling up against him as best as she could through the residual pain.

F's head tilted slowly, eyeing the glass of water that was now red with diluted blood. Once she was finished with the glass he reached for it unthinkingly and downed the watery drink.
He licked his.. bristles, one corner of his mouth rising in a lop-sided smile.

F was about ready to get up and fetch what she'd requested when she'd suddenly claimed his lap. He blinked and instead ran his hand through her hair and the fur on her back for a moment, before gently clamping his hands over her ears.

"OI!" he hollered suddenly, hoping the noise would carry to the back of the cafeteria kitchen, where Delia was usually found pottering about.
"DEELIA~" he shouted blindly, after she had made herself visible. Then he spotted her, apologised briefly, and asked for the painkillers and water from across the room.

"Want fries with that?" F thought he'd heard her mutter under her breath before she pandered to the request and supplied the pills with a smile. He gave her an odd look but thanked her all the same, unsure of what his ears had assumed.

He set the fresh glass of water down on the floor next to Antony and held a few pills out on his hand for her to help herself to when she wanted.

Regardless of the clamping, Antony could still hear his yells, but was comforted by the fact that it was muffled instead of sharp and painful.

Antony watched the ongoings closely, and took the pills as quickly as possible when offered. The glass was set on the floor and she resumed curling against his chest, eyelids drooping slightly.

"Thank you," she murmured before she could forget, tails curling around them both. A few of them were stained with blood, but had otherwise stopped twitching. It seemed that she was calming down, be it because of the drugs or because of the physically comfort. Either way, it was working.

F looked down at his empty hand.
"Well y' didn' need t' take all of 'em." he said with a slow smile, watching her glug the water.

He found himself stroking her like a large white kitten curled up on his lap. And while he did so, he saw no harm in giving any patch of particularly red fur a quick 'groom' with his tongue.

"Lets get you back t' vuh room, eh?" he suggested quietly after a couple of minutes, and would help her up if she accepted. If she still wanted her pot it would be there for her, but either way it was better than them sitting on the blood-stained cafe floor, for more than one reason.

Since first having that taste on his tongue, the hunger seemed insatiable, and disturbingly unsuppressible.

"Well I'm not a lightweight," she huffed in a counter, but soon quieted in favor of being stroked and petted.

His suggestion brought a nod, and she stood up with his help, trying to pointedly ignore any pain that shot up her legs as she did so. With his help, Antony made her way towards the door and then began the slower than normal trek to her duplex. Luckily, the more she moved, the more used to the pain she got.

However, the painkillers were also starting to kick in, and while the pain went away, she began to feel heavy and groggy.

Keys were fumbled, the door was opened, and she made her way to her bed first and foremost, crawling on top of it almost immediately. Any blood she tracked on was ignored for the time being as well.

She looked up at him once she was generally settled and patted the bed in front of her, "Stay with me?" It wasn't like she was going to be awake for much longer anyways.

"Oh is vat so?" he gave a brief head waggle, oblivious to the fact that it was probably a jab at something he'd said while plastered.

F spent most of the time between the canteen and the duplex distracted by the discovery that he could no longer whistle, and being highly disappointed by this.

Once they were in, he couldn't help grinning lazily at the parallels between this situation and one only a couple of days before. He climbed obediently onto the bed with her. It took real effort not to act a b*****d and temporarily walk out the door.
He didn't think she'd appreciate bad humour now.

"'course." F purred simply, getting comfortable himself.

She smiled, and it was genuine. It was also rather lopsided, thanks to the drugs kicking in Looks like she wouldn't be needing to smoke afterall.

That was very good news, as Antony really didn't want to get up to get it, much less put effort into rolling a blunt. Instead, when he got comfortable, she adjusted herself so that she was laying her head somewhere between his shoulder and his chest.

"How... How bad is it?" The squirrel woman asked shakily, her face twisting up to try and hide how scared she was at the moment. "I mean..." She trailed off, shaking her head and closing her eyes before burrowing herself against him a bit, as if she were trying to hide from the truth.

Either way, she was comforted by the fact that he was still there with her. That he hadn't run away screaming or just left. "Maybe... Call the labs and get blood from them?" She babbled all of a sudden, peeking up at him hopefully.

Even if he answered, Antony had drifted off to sleep and managed not to hear any responses. Hopefully she wouldn't drool in her sleep.

"It's horrific." F answered plainly, unable to resist. "You almos' look worse van I do."
His voice bubbled with what he hoped was obviously sarcasm while he stroked the fur behind her ear in what he hoped would be a comforting manner.

He looked down at her and winced at the prompted realisation that that was indeed his probable fate. The lingering smell of the stuff didn't help him shake the fact from his mind.

F lay there with her for a while, but eventually grew restless. Although the freshness of said blood was quickly diminishing, his stomach was still empty enough for it to seem attractive, and it complained accordingly. He carefully slipped out from under her and squeezed a pillow into his place under her head.

Before he left, he thought to leave some kind of note for her like she had for him. Spotting one of her sketchbooks nearby, he grabbed that and a handy pen that lay next to it. After a curious flick through the pages, he scribbled on the back of it and left it near the bed.



Evidently, F's life philosophy did not involve dwelling on crap.