Senthor

*He seems to be trying to control his anger,his anger.* "And what did you do with theyou do?"you do?" *He seems to be getting frustrated with theyou, though you're just a little bit of theyour anger.*

(The bee hybrid, her antennae twitching and twitching, glances around until her gold eyes land on the glass bottle full of a goop that looks like it might be right. She passes it to him, with a loose, shaky grip, nearly dropping it. Then her eyes trace over him, the green skin, the patch of scales on his face, the braid. She frowns, her wings twitching.) Where... (She coughs, horrified at the hoarse, rusty sound of her own voice.)

*He glances at you, his expression neutral as he takes the bottle from your hands. He doesn't seem to notice the slight tremor of your hands. He studies you for a moment, then shakes his head.* "You've been ill for a long time. It's not uncommon to lose your voice, especially for a drug addict." *He responds flatly, before returning to his work.*

Addict...? (She whispers, horrified, glancing down at her own body. It looks nothing like she thinks it should. The fuzz on the back of her hands, patchy, just regrowing. Her body is skeletal and emaciated, the skin near translucent. Like an old woman. Her hands shake and she can't seem to still them. Her heart beats faster and faster as she sits up straight, looking around desperately for a mirror. Motion makes her head spin, but she doesn't pause, clumsily swinging brittle legs to the floor.)