Iɴᴛᴏxɪᴄᴀᴛᴇ

      “If you die, I’m killing the subordinate who takes over your gang after you.”

     "If I'm going to die, I'm not going alone. I'll breathe toxic gas over this whole damn city and take you all down with me."

      “Way to make a guy feel special.” He sighs, tempted to snatch Laz’s hand back. It wasn’t discomfort he was feeling. As he’d said before, it only hurt during the process of the change - the reforming of bone structure, the shrinking and stretching of skin. After the change, it only tingled for a moment while he adjusted. “Always happy to know I’m a freak among freaks.” Of course, he knows that’s what he is. First he’d been a freak because he was one of the rare few to receive powers rather than go insane. Now he was an even bigger freak because he’s the only case of re-infection. The only confirmed case of someone’s power changing. “Your hands are colder than I thought they would be.”

            “I feel like you’re about to say something I’m not going to enjoy.”

            “I miss when you used to yell at me.”

     "Yell? Ah, right -- the whole 'stay out of my territory or turn you into a great big puddle of guts' spiel. Speaking of which, there's something I've been meaning to mention --."

     "Don't I always?"

        ☢-] He won’t eat non-flesh eaters probably. Even if he did, though, would Laz really be able to get rid of him?

     He'd better not. And that really depends on how fond of noxious fumes and other dangerous forms of acid he is. No one really likes waking up to their skin oozing onto the floor.

     If he doesn't eat the other gang members, maybe Laz will be nice enough to let him stay.

            “How would you feel if I told you the boys across the city found a snazzy lookin’ man in a labcoat snooping around last week?” He fixes a playful grin over his features, gaze watching Laz’s face carefully. Studying his reaction. “How would you feel if I told you they had him tucked away all nice and neat for safekeeping?”

     A hint of surprise catches normally glassy pink hues, quickly replaced by a linger sense of urgency at the other's words. If they had caught someone responsible for creating the black muck coursing through his veins, of course he would want the chance to speak with them; that and a few other things. Fingers curl into the rough skin at his palms, a look of mild seriousness and concern taking pale features as he answered, "I would feel --...like doing something violent. But did you really manage to bag one of 'em? If you're playing games with me, Cecilio, you'll wish you hadn't asked for those kisses." Because they'd be filled with nothing but arsenic and rat poison.

            “I’ve got some faaaaancy news for you from some friendly neighborhood birdies.”

     "Don't call me sir, you sound like one of those damned army goons," he retorted, a shake of snowy tresses being given at the confirmation of his inquiry. Stopping a few footfalls short of the room he'd made his base of operation, reddened hues fell back toward the other at the mention of information to be shared; whether this was Cecilio or not, he knew enough to make himself useful, apparently. Sighing slightly, the leader allowed himself to lean a single shoulder against a crumbling doorframe, smoke escaping his nostrils unintentionally. "And what are you expecting in return? I haven't got much to offer, though I'm sure you know that already."